


Forever Deuce

by lady_snow



Series: Forever Deuce [1]
Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Angst, Comfort Sex, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Massage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2017-10-20 08:20:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 65,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/210713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_snow/pseuds/lady_snow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Please, Please. Comment. #shamelessplug.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. First Time

**Author's Note:**

> Please, Please. Comment. #shamelessplug.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a part of the Forever Deuce series, but it's set in the past. My muse for the continuation of the series is a bit dead at the moment (I know what I want to write, but getting it written is a struggle) so I basically wrote a flashback in the past.  
> If "Forevcer Deuce" started in 2007 right after "Battle of Surfaces", with Roger and Andy in an established relationship for a few years, this chapter is set at Cincinnati 2005.
> 
> The title speak for itself.
> 
> You totally can read it as a stand-alone, but I think it's better if you've read most of the series.

“And - I’m not sure...I don’t know if I can.”  Roger mumbled, as Andy moaned in his ear that he wanted to fuck him.

****

It was early in their relationship, maybe two months in, and they took it reallly slow. Way slower than two men in their mid twenties normally do, but this was new, exciting - but scary, and the potential to fuck things up, including their tennis and their careers, was massive. They also haven’t done this a lot. Relationships. Hell - even sex. It was difficult when you had to hide, and who the fuck had time, with them going so deep in so many tournament?!

  
But Andy, who was out to his family, done it more regularly. Got laid, that is. He was well known, but not that well known, and there were plenty guys in the states who were gay and famous celebrity and wouldn’t rat on him.  
Roger, who was completely in the closet, rarely had anything going on at all. He was too worried about anyone running to the media. Andy didn’t ask him how many times he has slept with a man before, he was just sort of vaguely relieved when Roger told him, about a month back, that no, it wouldn’t be his first time.

It was almost frightening how much he wanted him. Before he figured out Roger was gay, not long after Wimbledon, he never actually thought of him much that way, he just thought he was straight and totally taken. The Mirka effect, as he came to call it in his head.  
But once they figured it out, the pull between them was incredible. His inability to get enough of the Swiss scared him sometimes, when he lied there at night and wondered whether his long obsession to beat Roger just morphed into something else. He wasn’t sure he was any closer to figure it out.

****

And Roger? Roger, as restrained as he was on court, and as scared as he was was from this new relationship and its potential complications, Andy could see his eyes, shining at him whenever he walked into the room. It was the only clue, because to anyone observing, Roger was being just his jovial self, a bit dorky, fun and sensitive man, who also beat the crap out of them on court.

But for Andy, that look was everything. And when they were alone, the passion between them was incredible. Yes, Andy had to admit, having someone nearby you could touch and kiss and touch awakened something dormant in the both of them, but there was something between them that just clicked right.

****

But all in all, they just didn’t spend enough time together, and this was the last chance to exhale and kick back before the US-Open. They were co- favorites. Agassi was there, that kid Nadal who stole his number 2 ranking was there, couple of others, too, Safin and Hewitt and Ferrero. But it was really about the two of them at the USO.  
Cincinnati was over, with its insufferable humidity they both actually didn’t mind. The final was today, actually, they played each other, and Roger won.

Roger was suppose to come over after his celebration dinner, and they were suppose to fuck for the first time, and it was Andy’s idea and what the hell was he thinking to choose this night, of all nights?

****

Roger was highly apprehensive about it when they talked about it, the day before yesterday, he said that whoever loses would be upset and that it would ruin things. But Andy told him that both of them would have to learn how to do this, if they ever want to make this work, and if Roger doesn’t think he can, then maybe he really shouldn’t come over, and he left in a huff.

****

Andy knew Roger wasn’t worried because he thought Andy was going to win, he was worried because I thought Andy was going to lose. And Andy knew it, and it strung. Roger was playing so well, Andy was playing well too, but has yet to figure out the problem which was Roger on court.

****

But, this was the last chance they’d get before the Open, with media and friends and family all around, especially Andy’s, but Roger’s family came out for Slams too, and that would make any chance for full night together almost impossible.   
  
And he did, in fact, lose. And there was a brief hug at the net, and Andy was upset, but not upset enough not to feel the shudder going down his spine. Even though he lost relatively easily, 6-3, 7-5, with Roger a little better in every aspect. As usual. His serve let him down today, but it usually did, against Roger.

****

So everyone left him alone, the way he liked it after a loss, and once Roger was done with the media and returned from his celebration dinner, he basically had a free night, too. Because Mirka was in on the whole thing, obviously.    
So he snuck to Andy’s room shortly after 11 PM, which was easy,  with his suit rumpled, and tie loosened, and he looked good enough to eat. And Andy wanted to fuck him.  
The truth was - he was sort of a versatile guy, but he was a pretty big guy, he was a star athlete, in the one-night-stands he had, he was usually on top, but not always. Really, he liked both. But Roger standing in the door, with his goofy shy grin, made him want to pounce on him and fuck him to the ground.  

“Safe to come in?” Roger asked, his eyes careful.  
“Define safe” Andy said, and pulled him in, slamming the door behind him.”If you’re referring to the match. I’m fine but I’d rather not talk about it. If you’re referring to what I’m going to do to you. No.”  
Roger let some sort of a choked sound, his lips gaping slightly in a look Andy learned to recognize as arousal. “God, really?” he leaned in to kiss him. “I seriously thought you were going to kick me out.”  
“It was my idea.”  
“Well, that was BEFORE the match.”

“Kicking you our wouldn’t have improved how I feel”  
“And this does?”

“Hmmm. Yeah.”  
Roger took their kisses and slowed them down. Basically, what he did was that he would eat his mouth. Lots of lips, lots of tongue. Just the right amount of teeth. And he did it s-l-o-w-l-y. It shot right to Andy’s dick, when Roger explored his mouth like that. and he let out a groan. For a guy that was relatively inexperienced, Roger sure picked up quickly on what Andy liked.

****

Andy ducked his head and moved to nuzzle Roger’s neck. Getting a shudder out of him right away.Fuck, but he was responsive. Everyone who knew Roger a bit knew that his even-keel temper and lack of emotions on court were all a big act, it was practiced, rehashed, it was the product of self-discipline created especially for tennis, and wasn’t something that came naturally. Off court, he was a sensitive guy. Easy to laugh, easy to tear-up. And Andy was struck how it translated to sex.  He made voices, he groaned, he talked during sex.

Andy loved that. He leaned Roger against the wall, shoving a leg between his thighs, as he focused on the juncture between shoulder blade and neck. Adding a little teeth in. Roger let out a whine.”Oh yeah.” His hands curled against Andy, digging into his hips, and Andy groaned as he realized Roger was rocking against his leg, panting. Andy pulled back a little with a laugh. “Easy there, you won’t last for 3 minutes like this.”  
Roger let out a strangled gasp.”I won’t last one. God, I’m so close, I thought about you at dinner. I couldn’t focus on anything. I’m - HARD for like hours now.”  
Andy choked, then groaned, rocking closer to him. Rubbing against his thigh. “Fuck. You’re not the only one, but we kinda had something else in mind.”  
“No. I know I know.” Roger panted quickly.. “I just need to take the edge off. Andy. Please. I’m so close.I swear I’m up for more than one round.” Andy laughed at that, and when Roger took his hand and pressed it against his groin, he pressed back. Roger was hard and hot even through his pants, and Andy dick twitched hard in response, realizing how close he was himself.He gave him a bit of friction, a little wrist movement. Roger’s eyes closed and he ground against Andy’s hand.”Oh.Oh.Oh. Gonna come. Gonna come.” And Andy meant to at least unzip him, he really did, but Roger shuddered against his hand and came in his pants with a groan, and it was so hot that all Andy had to do was to unzip, pull at himself once, and he was shooting, too. All over Roger’s dress shirt. Fuck. Fuck. He braced himself against the wall, his toes curling on the floor.  
Roger was panting in his ear, body still twitching a bit. When he opened his eyes and glanced down, he flushed and laughed. “Oh God. That’s just..shit.”  
Andy chuckled against his shoulder. “I think I ruined your shirt.”  
“And I ruined my pants. This was Armani. Oh God.” He grimaced, still laughing. “Move, Let me take it off.”  
Andy laughed even harder at that, and pulled the both of them in an upright position as Roger shrugged off his clothes. “That’s going to need dry-cleaning.” Andy said, holding up Roger’s ruined pants.  
“I think I’m just going to toss it. I don’t want to give that stuff in the hotel. I don’t need the gossip.”  
Andy snorted. “You think that’s the first time they’ve seen a bit of jizz on a tennis player’s pants?”  
Roger shrugged. “Don’t know, don’t care.”  
He turned to Andy’s still relatively dressed form. Boxer shorts and a shirt, and flushed. Andy could see him fighting the urge to cover himself. They haven’t really done the just-walking-around-openly-naked-thing yet. Andy read his expression, and asked, a small smile on his lips.  “You want a shower?”

“Yeah. I’m - well. Yes. I’m - sticky.” He looked at Andy for a second and scratched his face. “I’ve never-  showered with anyone, before. I mean, in the locker-rooms,  but - obviously not in the same cubical. Shit. I’m babbling. Look, I just don’t know - are we at the stage where I simply tell you to join me, or do you invite yourself?”  
Andy could feel himself smiling involuntarily.”I don’t know either. But I’m obviously joining you. Duh.”

****

\-----

In the shower, Andy wrapped his arms around Roger’s neck after they were done with most of the washing. His hair was longer than usual, curls wet against his head. It was a good look on him.  “That was - interesting, before.”  
Roger ducked his head. “Don’t tease. A little post-match adrenalin, thinking about tonight. That didn’t last too long, huh?”  
“Not teasing. Not like I was much better.”  
Roger gave him a long look. “You’re in a good mood. I mean - I don’t want to ruin it by bringing it up, but I’ve seen you after you lose. Especially to me. You’re never like this.You’re moody, and angry. That’s why I didn’t want to come, I wanted to give you some time before you’d have to see me. But you’re really - okay.”  
Andy shrugged restlessly.”Don’t know. Waiting for tonight, I guess.” He sighed. “The truth is - I’m maybe a little relieved that I lost today.”  
Roger frowned. “Really? Why?”  
Andy clicked his tongue. “It’s the first time we’ve played since... since we started doing this.” He gestured between them. “What if you lost to me for the first time in ages just after we hooked up? Wouldn’t that make you want to reconsider things? This way - nothing really changed. It was a decent match, even if it was in straights. I tried very hard, you tried very hard, you won. Same ol’ shit.” He sighed. “It felt normal. This way, if I beat you tomorrow, I’d know it’s because I was better, not because our involvement fucked  up your tennis. ”  
Roger smiled at that, but paused to ponder for a long moment.. “I actually -  I didn’t think about it like that. I mean - I did. I tried very hard to focus on the match and not on - us. Mirka was just livid with me, because she thought I was distracted. But then - I don’t know. I got into the match atmosphere, the crowd, the umpire calling score -  and didn’t think about it. If I had - yeah, probably I would have lost. Badly.” He chuckled softly, then he frowned. “Do you feel it made you play worse? ”  
“Hard for me to say. Did you think I played worse?”  
Roger shifted uncomfortably, but Andy could see he was giving it serious thought. “I- I don’t know. It wasn’t the best match you’ve ever played against me, but it wasn’t like you were shockingly bad or something - I actually thought you looked - pretty focused out there, like you had a gameplan, it just - didn’t work so much. Execution wise.” He rubbed at his face. “I actually don’t really want to analyze the match.”  
Andy sighed.”Yeah, okay. Look, I felt focused, it just didn’t work.” Actually, the whole situation made him more determined to beat Roger, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it. Both men looked at each other for a long moment, at last Andy said. “We don’t have to figure all of it out today, probably gonna take a while for us to figure it out.”  
Roger’s relief was palable on his face, and then he kissed him, Andy gasped in surprise, because Roger’s move caught him off guard, but he sighed into the Swiss’s mouth, and not long afterwards he was pressed against the shower wall, being kissed deeply by Roger. Then Roger’s fingers wandered up to his nipples.

At first he was cagey when Roger tried that, because he never thought himself especially sensitive in that area (while for Roger, his nipples was obviously connected directly to his dick), but Roger had a trick in which he didn’t pinch or rub, just flicked, flicked gently over the very tip of the nipple, and yeah. It was good, real fucking good. He let his head loll back as he felt himself stir all over again. “Fuck it, you have a natural talent.” He groaned as Roger smirked against his mouth, .  
He moved to capture Roger’s lips hungrily, pulling the man closer, taking control on the kiss. His hands slid on Roger’s wet back and grasped his ass, squeezing hard, arching toward him. ”God.” He groaned, moaning in Roger’s ear. “I really want to fuck you today.”

There was absolutely no mistaking the fact Roger has tensed up completely under his hands. Andy froze, and pulled back. Roger was flushed and panting, but also guarded and alert. “What? What did I say?”  
He could see Roger’s swallowing.”And - I’m not sure...I don’t know if I can.”  
Andy blinked. “Can what?”  
“I was going to - bring it up before, but I didn’t know what you wanted from tonight.”  
Andy was hesitant. “I thought - I’m sorry. I - I kinda thought we talked about it, sleeping together.” The word fucking suddenly felt wrong.  “I didn’t mean to be -” He felt like an idiot for saying it, because fuck it, Roger was another GUY. “Pushy. But I - Rog, we talked about it. Am I missing something, or what? .”  
“No, I know. I know we did. I just - we never talked about who’d be...” He sighed deeply, looked away, then back at Andy. “Look, you don’t have any idea how badly I want to sleep with you.”  
Andy let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Okay. That’s good to know.  I thought I was being a major douchebag here. What’s the problem, then?”  
Roger squirmed.” I don’t know. It’s my fault. That I never brought it up, but I thought why bother if you’re just going to want me to fuck you. But you don’t.”  
Andy’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “Um - I do want you to fuck me, I think. I just - I kinda felt like fucking you today. It’s a mood thing for me. I don’t know - I was maybe wrong to assume.” He fidgeted. “To be honest. I thought - you haven’t actually had sex that many times. I just assumed you’d like me to top.” He studied Roger for a long moment. “I guess I assumed -  wrong?”  
Roger squirmed. “Look, I’ve had sex - I don’t want to use the word plenty, because it’s a big fat lie, but it’s not like it was twice or three times. It was just - with a lot of breaks in between, and it was never nothing more than -” He let the word drift. “But I’ve only ever - Andy, I’ve never  - actually - bottomed- before. And I don’t - really want to, either.”  
Andy’s eyes widened. “What, never? Not even in your first time?”  
Roger tensed even more. “No, I - I did then, but - it doesn’t count. It was enough to know I don’t like it.”  
Andy stared at him, taking in Roger’s distressed tone and the fact he’s gone totally soft while before he was sort of half-hard and interested. “Lets get out of the shower, okay?”  
Roger nodded, and mutely followed him into the bedroom, and Andy didn’t miss the fact that Roger wrapped a towel around his waist before leaving the bathroom, and did the same.Roger sat on the bed, then buried his face in his hands. “Shit. Shit. I should have - I should have brought it up before.” He didn’t look up.  
Andy sat next to him. “Roger. It’s not a disaster. But I don’t - get it. I mean - not to be an expert on gay sex, I know there are guys who only top, but I never thought you’re one of them.”  
Roger glanced at him.”Why”  
Now it was Andy’s turn to shift uncomfortably. “I don’t know. You like it when I touch you and do things to you. You’re really responsive. You’re not a - big macho type. It’s just not your style. Yeah - you like to boss people around on the tennis court, but it doesn’t really translate to your off-court personality..” At Roger’s raised eyebrow, Andy smiled. “Okay, maybe just a bit. Look, anyway - Why - why don’t you like it? It feels fucking good.”  
Roger shuddered. “I don’t think so. It was painful and embarrassing, at least for me. Maybe I’m just not wired this way.”  
Andy was quiet for a long moment, in deep thought. “Roger. When was your first time? I never actually asked.”  
“Why does it matter?”  
“Roger.”  
“I was 16.”  
Andy blinked. It was a young age, his first time was quite a bit later, when he was over 18, but it wasn’t THAT young. He knew plenty of guys who lost their virginity at 16, even earlier.“Who was the guy?”  
Roger groaned and fell on the bed, burying his head in the sheets. Andy didn’t know what to do. He placed a hand on Roger’s back and rubbed. “Hey, come on.”  
“He was an ITF Physiotherapist, and no - I’m not telling you which one. I’m not sure he’s even around anymore. He never did Slams or anything like that, mostly the ITF clay tournament in Europe. And you’ve never went to those when you were younger.” Andy’s eyes opened in shock.”An ITF Phy...Roger, do you get how wrong that is?”

“It’s not - look, I was over the age of consent and I - I wanted him to.”  
“The fuck you were, over the age of consent at 16- Oh, what, like in Switzerland?”  
“Hmmm. That’s where we were. I was playing a Junior tournament. He was - I don’t know. Like 23 or 24. He wasn’t much older.”  
“In Texas, that would be illegal.”

“Texas. A lot of things are illegal in texas. You also have the death penalty.”  
Andy smiled a little. “Touche.” He touched his back again. “Look, turn around, okay?”  
Roger did and Andy shook his head at him. “That’s position of authority, he shouldn’t have - “  
“Position of Authority. This wasn’t highschool, it was the tour - “

“*Junior* tour.”  
“They cater to us, not the other way around. He held no power over me. I could have gotten him fired easy. He was giving me a massage. He saw I was getting hard - “  
“Oh, come the fuck of it, Roger!” Andy was getting irritated.  “99%  percent of the guys on tour get a boner when given a massage, no matter by whom.“  
Roger ignored him. "One thing let to another. He was - good looking, I guess. I wanted him to touch me. I was amazed he showed any interest, I was really an awkward-looking teenager and he was a good looking guy. And - he fucked me. But - I hated it. It - it just really hurt. And I didn’t... It was messy, I just felt like - “ He flushed. “Like I need to go to the bathroom. And - I lost my match afterwards because I was really sore. The guys I was with after - I mean, there was mostly one guy, in particular, I told you about, the ice-skater? Well, he never showed any interest in fucking me. And I like topping, a lot. “

“Hate to bring up the obvious, but If you hated it and was sore, that means he was doing it wrong. Or maybe you were too young. Or maybe it was - was it in a training room somewhere? That’s not ideal for anyone’s first time.”  
Roger propped his head on his hand and looked at him. “When was yours? First time, I mean.”

Andy half grinned. “I can’t tell you who he is either, because he’s not out.  But he’s... I was 18. And he played American soccer for a college team. Randomly enough. I knew him generally, he’s from Austin Texas. I guess his gay-dar was working well, because I never would have guessed about him, or had the guts to do something about it.  I was home on vacation, obviously I was playing the tour by then, ran into him going out - we had a little in common because he also played sports. You know.  Had a drink, he had an apartment because he was living off-campus.I don’t know - it was my first time, it wasn’t his. He topped. It hurt, I won’t lie - but I liked him enough to try it again, it got better with time. We sort of drifted apart, he had college, I had the tour. That was it. But yeah - I like both. I top more, because - I don’t know - “ He flushed. “I seem to attract guys who want to be fucked. But I like both.”  
Roger looked away, and Andy thought he’d never seen him look so crestfallen in his life.”I can - I guess I can try. But - what if I still not like it?”  
Andy sighed. “Rog, It’s not a deal-breaker, if that’s what you’re asking me.”  
“It’s not?”  
Andy moved over to lie on the bed, taking the same position as Roger had, propping his head on his hand. “No. It’s not.” He moved a wet curl from Roger’s face. “Nothing is mandatory.  Rog. If I just wanted a guy to fuck I could find it. So could you. It’s not what we’re doing here.”

Roger let out some kind of choked breath.”I know.” He said in a low voice. “I just don’t want to fuck it up. Right now, this feels like the best thing that ever happened to me.”   
He then pushed Andy back on the bed, and buried his face in the crook of his neck. Andy, stunned and suddenly deliriously happy, let him lie there and gradually gathered him in his arms. They never really hugged like this. It made him want to hug tighter. Roger sighed in his arms.”You Okay?” Andy asked softly. Roger raised his head, his eyes were a bit wet. “Sorry, I get like this pretty easily.”  
Andy upper lip curved. “This I already knew about you.”  
Roger gave a half shrug. “I guess that’s one reason why you thought I’d want to bottom. Lets face it, between you and me, if people had to take bets...”  
Andy’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah. I’m not ignorant enough not to know that it doesn’t work like that. Plus, you could look at it differently - he who tops on court...” There was a slight tang of bitterness in his voice he couldn’t quite push all the way back.  
Roger’s eyes widened a bit, then narrowed with regret. “I’m sorry. If I could give you that toda...”  
Andy’s face twisted. “You think I want pity sex?!  Try that and whatever we have will be over. I fucking mean that, Federer. We can’t let what’s oncourt dictate what we do off-court. This has to feel right in HERE.”  
“It’s not pity sex.” Roger said softly. “I don’t see how it could ever be.” He caressed Andy’s face, Jaw, neck, his hand slide across his face and in the soft hair in the back of his neck, rubbing. And Andy could feel his eyes closing underneath Roger touch. “Oh” He groaned. “Every joint in my body feels like lead after a week of these hard-courts.”  
Roger smiled. Andy could sense him smiling even though his eyes were closed. “Maybe you should play more on clay.”

“I want to keep my ranking in the top five, thank you very much.”  
Roger chuckled, he then tilted Andy’s head back, and kissed his neck. Andy opened his eyes, and saw Roger looking at him, a bit wistfully, a bit worriedly.”Roger - “ He started, then sighed. “Oh Christ. Still want to fuck me?”  
Roger’s eyes lit up. “Yeah.” He choked out. “Do you want me to?”  
Andy checked the eyeroll. “Just offered, haven’t I?”

“O.K” Roger almost whispered. “Can you, um, turn around?”  
Andy blinked, because flipping over NOW was going a tad too fast for him, but Roger only said. “Just a backrub. You said you were sore. Trust me, I won’t do anything too quickly. I know how to make it good.” At Andy’s skeptical expression, his eyes narrowed. “Look, it doesn’t have anything to do with what I just told you, about my first time, It’s a bit of foreplay, okay?”  
Hesitatingly, Andy turned over, and Roger rose to let him do that. He pulled away Andy’s towel, and his own, too, Andy noticed. “Do you have, um, oil. And, um, lube?”  
“Lube in the drawer just to your right. Pretty sure I have massage oil in my bag. Just don’t confuse the two, it’s the self-warming kind. If you use it in the wrong spot it’s gonna kill our evening.”  
Roger flashed him a smile as he hopped off the bed to get it. “Yeah, I know.”. Andy turned on the side to see watch him walk away. Roger wasn’t Fernando Verdasco - nobody was - , but he was lithe, with wide shoulders and a fantastic ass, and yeah, he was getting hard again just by looking at him leaning down to get the oil. When he was back, he settled on the back of his legs, very close to his ass. He was warm and heavy, and all things fantastic. He pressed Andy’s hips deep into the mattress, which felt good. Roger drizzled the massage oil on his hand, and Andy could hear him rubbing them together, then he placed them right on his shoulders. Like he fucking knew where it hurt the most. Hours and hours of serving 140 K take their toll on his shoulder, especially his rotator cuff, exactly where Roger was touching. It didn’t matter how many treatments he got, he always wanted more. He groaned as soon as Roger put pressure on it. “Oh, fucking christ.”  
“Good, bad?”  
“Fucking good. OH.”  
So yeah. It turned out that Roger knew what he was doing. He started by stretching the muscles, and when he did that he settled higher on his ass. And Andy bit the pillow, because that was Roger’s DICK he was feeling. And fucking yeah. Then his fingers dug at exactly the right way at a particularly sore spot, and he nearly cried out with it, but it was painful in a good way. After Roger was more or less done with his shoulders (no amount of time dedicated to those would ever be enough, and after all, he had professionals to help him solve those issues) he moved to his upper back. Roger pressed his palms in a circular motion, using his own weight, and his back creaked pleasingly. Andy groaned in appreciation,  he bit on his lip as Roger let out a groan. His balls were rubbing against Andy’s ass as he pressed down, and fuckfuckfuck. Roger rolled his hands, and then pressed down his spine, rubbing at the earnest now. Andy could feel the muscles in his back growing relaxed and pillant under Roger’s hands, just as his dick hardened even more. The contrast was so fucking arousing. He tried to move his hips back and forth, but no dice, with Roger sitting on them. Then Roger scratched along his spine, and sprawled himself fully against his back. He licked at the nape of his neck, then moved with his tongue down his spine. Andy rocked against the bed, able now that Roger’s weight was spread more evenly. He could feel himself leaking against the bed. FuckFuckFuck. Roger was panting harshly against his skin. “Roger.Come on.” Andy urged him. “I’m hard like a fucking rock.”  
“Not yet.” Roger breathed, he nibbled and licked slowly, ever so fucking slowly down his spine. When he  reached the curve of Andy’s ass, he paused, put two hands on the globes of his ass and gave him a firm squeeze. “Is this okay?  Roger asked carefully, but Andy could feel the tremor in his voice, and also feel him, wet and heavy against his lower thighs.  
“Yeah, fuck, yeah.”  
Roger settled to work on his glutes.His fingers traced his inner thighs, then spread his legs slightly. Andy knew he should be feeling exposed, but with Roger squeezing his ass, basically squeezing around his hole, it just made him insane with need. Then Roger leaned against him again, and returned to kissing down his spine. Only this time, when he reached his tailbone, he stopped. He leaned his forehead against Andy’s back, and Andy could hear him take a couple of composing breaths. “Andy. I want to do something. Can I do something?”  
Andy was shaking underneath him, unable to pay attention to the question. “Why are you stopping, for fuck’s sake?.”

“I’ve never actually done it before, but I’ve seen it in-well- porn” Roger admitted, and with that promising yet alarming line, he put both hands on his ass again, directly on the globes, and rubbed, clockwise. So that his thumbs were right there on Andy’s crack, and the circles were opening him up slowly. Andy groaned, well, he meant to groan, but it came out as a whimper. He couldn’t help it. He rocked back and forth, and fuckfuck. Then there was Roger’s breath on his hole, and at the end of the breath there was a tongue, and Andy nearly jumped, because no one ever done that to him before. “Rog-er.” He protested, but not quite. “Come on, I probably taste like ass.”  
He could hear Roger chuckling against his skin, and shivered. “You taste a little like soap, and sweat, and and - and sex. It’s not bad. Can I do this?”  
In response, Andy allowed his legs to fall even more apart. Roger, carefully, laved at his hole, And Andy squirmed and moaned and thrust against the mattress, and Roger stilled his thighs and whywhywhy. “Stop it.” Roger whispered, and Andy could hear the tremor in his voice.“You’ll come and there will be no third round.”  
“You’re a fucking tease,” Andy accused. “Come on do something.” He was whinging, but fuck it was something else. Roger inserted his tongue, just a bit, but enough, and flicked it around. Andy cried with it. It was so sharp, so good. He ground back against Roger’s mouth. He needed more, and Roger gave it to him. It  felt like he was spearing him with his tongue, inserting it even more. Roger’s other hand was toying with his balls and Andy shoved his hips up and down because, because he couldn’t, because he was hard and throbbing and Roger-fuck...

“Fingers now, okay?” Roger’s whispered, and his voice was terribly rough and unsteady. Andy could only nod into his hands. Roger pulled back and after several moments he gently, so fucking gently, inserted one finger into him. Andy gave a strangled sound, but the finger, well lubed, went in easily. “Okay?”  
“Roger” Andy growled, out of patience.  “GodfuckingDammit - ah. Stop asking!.”  
Roger let out a soft sound, and added another one, and Andy just lowered his face to the bed and gasped, pushing back because fuckitfeltgood, the pressure and stretch caught him just right, his spine was almost tingling. He started thrusting against the bed and onto Roger’s fingers, biting his lips and trying to keep silent, but then Roger wriggled his fingers and he nearly let out a sob, because the shooting spark in his body was almost too much. And Roger was groaning too, and then the fingers - three by then, were out of him, and Andy pushed back but then he felt Roger’s weight above him. Hot and sweaty and heavy, and Andy wanted to protest something about the difficulty of the position, with him spread out like that, but then Roger’s used his legs to spread his wider, and Roger’s dick, feeling as big as it looked, was nudging at his entrance. Roger’s groan in his ear was anything but composed. “Andy.”  He whispered. “Oh...” and he let out something in Swiss German Andy didn’t quite get as he slowly entered into his body. Andy let out a pained “Guh” and gasped at the intrusion, because it had been a while.Roger stopped then, breathing hard, lips on the back of his neck, kissing him, letting him adjust. He purred against his neck. “God. You feel so good. Tell me- tell when I can move.”  
“Mo-ve.” Andy growled.. “Just - slow.”  
Roger let out a strangled sound and pushed a little deeper, then started a small, confined motion, just a little bit in and a little bit out every time, until he was all the way in, balls deep, he let out a shuddering groan against his neck. “Oh, God. Gonna lose it-Ah-  Gonna lose it.” Andy was unable to respond for a moment. It wasn’t exactly painful, but there was considerable stretch, but it was good. Fuck. It was good. And Andy could see Roger’s fingers curling against the sheets, and pushed a little back. “Don’t fucking come. Come on, give it to me.” Roger groaned at that, and pulled almost all the way out, then thrust hard again, and again, and clipped his prostrate on the downthrust, and Andy was shaking, because Roger was spot on, and his dick was dragging against the sheets and to his amazement it was fucking enough, enough to send him over the edge. He spurted, wet and messy and all over the sheets. “Ah-Ah.Ohhh.” Roger just groaned, a low guttural sound, and his hips thrust faster, shallower and harder, less controlled, but it was anything but painful this stage, and a moment later Roger’s hips stuttered then thrust all the way in, and there were teeth on his shoulder blade and arms tight around him Andy almost feel Roger in his throat because he’s overstimulated and fucking Nghhhhh.

He’s never come so undone. Ever, never, and he kept his head buried in the pillow as Roger collapsed on top of him with a groan and an oath.

Roger didn’t move, and for a moment it suit Andy just fine, but then it was suffocating weight and Andy moved a little, his limbs heavy. “Roger.” He groaned, his throat was closed. “Not cool, man.” His voice came out scratchy, and maybe an octave lower.  
Roger murmured and apology and pulled his knees closer to his body so his weight was distributed better as he nuzzled Andy lazily. They were both breathing heavily, and Andy could feel Roger softening in him and sliding out wetly, and he shuddered, because the sensation wasn’t exactly pleasant.   
“God..” Roger panted, then let out a low half-chuckle as he rolled off Andy to lie on his back. “Oh God-That was - “ He let the words drift.  
Andy knew what he meant. “Yeah.” He breathed, then with a groan, climbed on top of Roger. “It was.”  
Their eyes met for a moment, then Roger reached out to wrap his hand around the back of Andy’s head and pull him into a kiss. They kissed for a long moment, savoring, then Andy lowered his head to the crook of Roger’s sweaty neck and closed his eyes. Roger’s hands roamed his spine, then tightened around him. And Andy wanted to ask him Why the hell wouldn’t you enjoy what you did to me just now. But he didn’t, he didn’t want to spoil the moment, and fatigue of the match was setting in rapidly on the other side of his orgasm.

Roger, his eyes closed and heart-rate slowing down, clearly on the verge of sleep, didn’t seem to be going anywhere, either.

But instead of falling into an orgasm-induced coma, Andy found his thoughts wandering. They never spent the whole night together. Roger never slept over, and obviously Roger shared a hotel suite with Mirka while on tour, so Andy sleeping over there was out of the question. But they’ve never fucked, either, before tonight. Feeling stupid for asking, but unable to help himself, he nudged Roger ever so slightly. “Hey, um, Mirka knows where you are, right, she’s not going to come knocking, hysterical that I may have used this chance to break your knees or something?”  
Roger stirred slightly. “She knows.” He didn’t elaborate. “I have early media though. 9 AM. She will blame you if I’m late.” The smile was evident in his voice.

Andy snorted into his shoulder. “I lose the match, but have to wake up on the winner’s schedule and potentially get into troubles with the scariest woman on the men’s tour? I don’t know Rog, maybe I should reconsider this whole sleeping together thing..”  
Roger didn’t immediately respond, and for a second Andy wondered whether he stuck a foot in his mouth, then Roger said, his tone careful. “I never actually - spent the night, over - I mean, with - a man.”  
Andy’s eyes opened at that and he burrowed closer. “Okay.” He stretched into Roger’s body with a nonchalant grunt, as if Roger didn’t reveal something important. “Just so you know, while accommodating morning wood *is* included in the overall package, kissing without brushing your teeth first comes with an extra charge I’m not sure even you can afford.”  
Roger laughed, his hand curling into Andy’s hair.”I’ll keep that in mind for tomorrow morning.” His fingers caressed the nape of his neck, then froze, and Andy heard his intake of breath and the swear, it wasn’t in English. He lifted his head, puzzled. “What?”  
Roger looked pale and contrite. “Shit. I’m sorry.”  
“What the hell for?”  
“I didn’t - shit. Look, I never - I didn’t use - a condom, I forgot, I-forgot.” He finished lamely.  
Andy stared at him for a moment, then rolled off, sitting up in bed. “Well. fuck.” He said, annoyed, mostly at himself, partly at Roger.

Roger turned to his stomach, and buried his face in the pillow. He couldn’t look at Andy. It was beginning to be a familiar gesture, Roger trying to pretend he wasn’t there.

After a moment, Andy sighed and touched the Swiss’ shoulder. “Rog.” He sighed deeply. “Look, I I didn’t ask you to put one on either. I’m just as mad at myself, this was fucking stupid.”  
“Could you even tell I wasn’t using one?” Roger sounded miserable and guilty, and hasn’t turned around.  
Andy snorted in annoyance. “Well. Yes. I’m not fourteen.” He rubbeed his face. “I kinda hate condoms, if I’m fucking someone it takes me forever to come, and If I’m getting fucked... I just don’t like the feeling of it.I use them because I have to, it was easy enough not to remember to ask you to put one on when you didn’t..”

Roger sat up, his expression somber and serious. “Andy -   I never slept with anyone else without a condom- it was always automatic, to put one on, when it was a one-night thing.” He shifted uneasily on the bed and flushed. “This is different, and -  I got carried away. I was always careful before.”  
“Well, it was fucking stupid on both of our parts, but it is what it is.” He sighed again. “We’ll just go get tested,to be on the safe side, and then decide how to handle things from there. No sense to freak out now, we’re both usually smarter than what we did today..”  
Roger’s face relaxed, and he rested his forehead against Andy. “Okay. Yeah. That’s - yeah.”  
He grimaced slightly. “I want to shower, though, first, I’m sticky, and we smell like...”  
“Sex. We smell like sex, it’s not the worst smell to go to bed with, and trust me, I’m way stickier than you are. Lets shower in the morning. Lets go to sleep, Rog, I’m really dead on my feet.”  
Roger looked at him for a moment, then leaned to kiss him on the cheek, then softly on the lips. Andy blinked. “What was that for?” He asked, his voice a bit hoarse.  
Roger didn’t reply immediately, instead he collapsed back on the bed with a groan, pulling Andy after him, then arranged his body in a way that would allow Andy to curl around him. “It’s an early ‘thank you,” He said lightly. “Because you’re going to wash my back in the morning.”

Andy knew that wasn’t all of it, but did not investigate further. Instead he shoved one leg between Roger’s thighs, and encircled him with his arm. “You drive a real hard bargain, Feds.”  
They shifted a little until they’ve found a good position, then Andy tucked his nose in the crook of Roger’s neck and sighed in contentment. After a moment of restlessness, Roger entwined their fingers together, cradled Andy’s hand closer to his chest and curled closer, his body relaxing.  
Andy’s eyes opened, he pressed his lips against Roger’s neck, then closed them again. Not every emotion needed to be articulated by words.


	2. An Afternoon Getaway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set right after "The battle of surfaces".

"I told you this exhibition was a fucking bad idea."  
"Andy, this isn't helping me." Roger's voice had a bit of an edge in it. He heard that very tune for several months now. And even now, when the exhibition was over and he and Andy got together in Rome, he was still hearing it. With an 'I told you so' sprinkled on top. "Plus, it had its merits. I gathered information."  
Andy snorted, loudly. "Don't try this shit on me."  
"I'm practicing for the media. Oh. Stronger."  
"Battle of surfaces my ass," Andy snorted in disgust as he rubbed Roger's lower calf. "Try battle of clay and the shitty grass!"  
Roger groaned and buried his head in the pillow. Andy's strong fingers were doing great things to the muscles in his calves and thighs. "'T'grass was fine."  
Andy was not to be deterred; he was going to have his peace. "Fine?!"  
His fingers rubbed a particular sore spot in the back of Roger's thigh, and Roger flinched and tightened a bit underneath him. "Sorry. The grass was not fine. It was a disgrace, and it cost you the match!"  
Roger smiled a small, sad smile. "No, that was the double fault on a match point. Oh. Oh. Right there. Ja." He couldn't deny that he was still tad sore and a tad tight from the constant surface changes, and Andy's offer of a massage came in a really good timing. But he wished he would just shut up about what a bad decision it was to play the exhibition right before Rome, he didn't want to hear it, He just wanted some peace and quiet. And a good massage.  
"The grass's condition worked against both of us. It was unfortunate that it happened to me on a match point, but it wasn't the reason I lost. Rafa suffered from the bad bounces, too."  
Andy rolled his eyes at the mention of the Spaniard's nick name. "Yea. Poor 'Rafa'. My heart just bleeds for Nadal."  
He repositioned himself on Roger's back thighs, and lowered the waistband of his boxer shorts till it hung lower on his ass, and started working on rubbing that area, right when that beautiful, slightly tanned back turned into milky globes. Roger had a great ass. Really.  
A deep press down on a particular sensitive spot got a loud moan out of Roger, that shot straight to Andy's dick.  
Andy blinked, he was getting hard. No point in doing that when Roger seemed to be a 110% focused on the massage he was getting, but man. Sitting on Roger's thighs and rubbing his ass, well, rubbing VERY CLOSE to his ass, wasn't helping his decision to try and get Roger to talk to him.  
And Andy Roddick was a man on a mission.  
First of all, there was Roger's nice guy act toward Nadal, God! Roger was more cutsie with the Spaniard after being beat in Monte Carlo than he was with Andy after *beating him* well, all 13 times. Of course, Andy didn't really want Roger to smile at him after kicking his ass, so that may had something to do with it.  
"He won the damn thing. Can't you muster up some negativity toward him?"  
"It was an *exhibition*, Andy. It doesn't mean a thing."  
"Humf. Don't I know it."  
"Ou. Didn't doubt that. A little to the left. Ooh, yes. Right there. God."  
"Good baby?"  
"So good. Hurts. But so good"  
Roger burrowed his face in the pillow, thinking he could stay like this all day. And all of next week, really. Too bad there was the small issue of Rome in a matter of days, and he had practice with Tony in a few hours, a rather somber, quiet experience he has come to dread.  
Andy shook his head, fuck, his lower back was filled with knots, and didn't seem to be loosening. "Didn't you get a decent massage after practice yesterday? You're wound up pretty tightly there."  
"I did. Um. I had some media obligation so I cut it short. Please don't stop"  
Andy frowned. "Maybe you should get a pro to do some serious work on your back, I don't want to over-do it.".  
"I like it better when you do it. Keep going."

Andy paused and studied the naked expanse of the Swiss underneath him, he didn't buy the calm exterior Roger insisted of wearing. The man simply deflected everything Andy said. It was getting very frustrating. Roger was putting the same face with him as he was putting for the media, and Andy was growing quite sick of it.

Indian Wells was a bleep, a looming lucky looser who was ranked low due to a drug suspension, not because he sucked or because of an injury. Miami was unsettling; Roger usually did not choke like that. Monte Carlo was expected, really, and Roger was distressed about something before he even stepped on court. Some issue with Roche Roger outright refused to discuss. But when he walked into the locker room after the MC final, he found Roger *sitting* in the shower. Head on his knees. Not crying or anything, just breathing in and out, very purposely, his head between his knees. And two racquets, smashed, were thrown on the floor, he became concerned. Roger was keeping too much bottled inside, while becoming even more restrained and emotionless on court.

And then there was that damn exhibition, which actually gotten Roger excited – which Andy loved, because he had been so down lately. But still, he thought it was a really stupid idea. But Roger wouldn't hear of it, the challenge and novelty of it excited him. And he thought he could get that win. He took it seriously. Andy thought that clay alone is enough of a challenge, but wisely refrained from saying anything. After all, he sucked on clay. Besides, Roger made the commitment ages ago, he wasn't going to change his mind now that he lost a few matches. Andy respected him a lot for that, even though he thought it was the wrong decision. Which it was, given the fact he lost.

Suddenly tired with the whole situation, Andy let out a long sigh of frustration, flopped back on the bed next to his boyfriend and put his arm over his eyes.  
Roger frowned and raised himself slowly back to a sitting position. "Andy?"  
Andy didn't say anything for a moment, weighting his words. "You know, I can't do it, Rog."  
Roger crossed his hands defensively across his naked torso, "Can't do what?"  
Andy sat down abruptly, and gestured with his hand to the space between them "This. You not talking to me. Pretending like everything is alright when I know better, and you *know* I know better."  
Roger's frown deepened, exuding the stubborn look Andy knew all too well. "I'm not pretending. Everything is fine. And can we NOT do that right now? What is wrong with you?! We have a tournament starting in a few days, I have a final to defend, I can't deal with that right now."

Andy simply watched him as Roger got up from the bed and went to the closet, pulled a pair of faded jeans on with his back turned to him, moved a hand through his impossibly tousled hair, and then, in a surprising gesture of helplessness, leaned his palms against the closet and bowed his head..  
From the place he was sitting on the bed, Andy had a perfect view of Roger's expression as it reflected on the closet mirror. Tension, stubbornness, anxiety, sadness.

He clicked his tongue and approached Roger slowly from behind, cautiously, as a man would to a cornered tiger, and wrapped his hands around the other man's waist.  
Roger inhaled sharply and tensed. "Andy. I told you to leave me alone, didn't I?"  
Andy moved his grip to Roger's hands, restraining him, pulling him closer "Actually, you didn't, and even if you did, I don't care."  
Andy hoped to God Roger wouldn't struggle, Roger was slenderer in built than he was, but equal in height and no less powerful, he could risk injuring the both of them, but he wasn't letting him go.  
"Andy, come on." Roger tried to struggle free again, not too hard.  
"No." Andy closed his eyes, and spoke directly into Roger's ear, hot puff of air blowing out with each word. "Come on, babe. I know something is wrong. Either you tell me what happened, or we'll go on standing there for so long you'll miss practice with Tony, and he'll come looking for you and neither of us wants that."  
Roger suddenly took a big, shuddering, breath.  
"Roger?" Andy couldn't gauge his expression from where he was standing behind him, but one glance toward the mirror revealed the moistures brimming at the end of those long lashes, and the way his front teeth bit into his lower lip, the utterly tense line of his shoulder. "Okay. Okay." He sighed. This was going to be trickier than he had thought at first, he expected anger once he insisted of probing into whatever the hell it was bothering him, not tears.  
Andy released Roger's wrists, and turned the man in his arms toward him, and leaned his forehead against his. "Okay. Just tell me, I promise, Rog. I'll be fine with whatever you dish out, unless you have the hots for Nadal," He laughed a nervously "That I don't think I can face."  
Roger burst into hysterical laughter, wiping his face "Oh. God. That's what you're worried about?" He kissed the other man, hard, making a point. "Rafa is a cute looking guy, I mean – I'm not blind or anything. But he doesn't swing that way at all. Ass-picking jokes aside, please." He said when he saw Andy's smirk. "He's okay, you know? I like him well enough, when he's not staring at me the other side of a clay court. That's a hard-on killer, I assure you. Tell me you weren't actually concerned about that."  
Andy fidgeted slightly. "I didn't know what to think, I'm glad it isn't Nadal"  
Roger frowned "It's not anyone! How could you think that?!"  
Andy shook his head "Oh hell no, we're not doing that. We can talk about my insecurities afterwards, right now we're talking about you"  
Roger removed himself from Andy's grip, and started pacing around the room, talking to himself in rapid swiss-german. Andy, who - even after almost two years of being involved with Roger - couldn't speak more than three words in that language, didn't get anything beside the Swiss-German word for idiot. One Roger was especially fond of, as he often directed it to himself on court.  
"You are not an idiot. I don't date idiots."  
Roger paused, and then buried his face in his hands. "Yea, you may change your mind in a moment."  
"Meaning?"  
"I outted us to Tony"  
Andy did a double-take "Tony who? You WHAT?"  
Roger looked up at him, his eyes red and voice miserable. "Roche. I didn't mean to."  
Andy tried to control the many thoughts running through his head. Two years they had kept their homosexuality and relationship a secret, Mirka and Andy's parents were the only people who knew. Okay, Henman had more than a clue about Roger, but that was it. They fully intended to keep it that way till retirement. It was a mutual decision. They were both okay with it. They both liked it that way. He just couldn't believe it.  
Trying to keep the shock out of his voice, he took a deep breath. "When?"  
Roger took a deep breath "Australia, after the Final"  
Andy couldn't control himself, he hit the wall with his fist. "Australia?! Fucking hell Roger, that was months ago!"  
Roger raised his head and fixed Andy with a glare. "No, Really? I thought it was yesterday." He shook his head. "He took me out for celebration after all the media hype was over," He shrugged his shoulders miserably. "We had a few drinks, I didn't really eat. It got to my head, I was upset about our fight, he couldn't understand why I was unhappy, he said I played brilliant throughout the tournament, best he's ever seen me play, and that I should be thrilled, so I told him."  
Andy shook his head, agitated. "Can you elaborate on that?! What does that mean, you told him. Told him what. 'I'm gay'? Told him you were seeing me. What?"  
"I told him my boyfriend is mad at me for beating him 4, love and 2. Then I started to cry, everything just came out, you know?"  
Andy sat on the bed and rubbed his temples. Fucking shit. Oh, hell. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Roger had tried to kiss him that night, to apologize – as if anything could take the sting out of the humiliation he got that night. Fucking utter schooling. That what it was. He wouldn't, couldn't accept any apology from Roger that night, he needed time with himself. He shoved him away, packed his bags and took the first flight out of Australia to the states. The Happy Slam my ass. And even though he was a total jerk to Roger, a day before a slam final. Roger still won in three. Thank God. He would have never forgiven himself had Roger lost.  
Roger's broken voice crept up through the jumble of thoughts. "The tension of the win, that fight with you, I didn't sleep the night before the Finals, didn't eat right. I held it back through match point, through the ceremony, I mean – I didn't want to start blubbering like last year. I never let it out after the win, you know? Me and Tony. We were sitting at that little pub he knew, a really dingy place he only suggested so no-one would come over to ask for my autograph or something, he saw my mood, really didn't get why I was sad. Started probing. We drank a bit. He was trying to be a mate, get me to open up. Everything was spinning. I just couldn't stop myself. Mirka was at the hotel with a head cold, I didn't want to burden her." He sank against the wall, his knees against his chest, and rested his forehead against his knees; he was doing anything but rocking back and forth. "I had no one to talk to."  
Andy rubbed his forehead, feeling the acute stab of remorse. "Okay." He stared at the slumped form for his lover for a second. "Okay."  
He crossed the room and sat on the floor next to him, shoulder to shoulder. They were sitting like that in silence for a moment. Roger's face still buried in his knees, Andy studying the wall in front of him.  
A small nudge. "So, what did Rochy had to say after you dropped that little line?"  
"He asked if you withhold sex after I beat you."  
Andy blanched and sputtered.  
"Gottcha." The voice was rough, but there was a grin there, as well. It was good to hear.  
Andy nudged him, harder this time, and closed his eyes. "Christ. Roger."  
Roger let out a barking sound that was half laugh, half sob and raised his head from his knees.  
"He didn't react at first. When I realized what it was that I've done. I felt like throwing up. I just excused myself, went to the bathroom but nothing came out. I washed my face, tried to get a grip. When I returned, he wasn't at the table."  
Andy turned his head to look at him. "Wasn't at the table."  
"Ja."  
"Fucking bastard. He just left you there?"  
Roger shook his head. "No. That's what I thought at first. But he was standing out on the porch. Having a smoke."  
Andy quirked an eyebrow "A smoke? Roche?"  
Roger shrugged. "I went outside. He smoked and I stood there looking at him smoking, And then he finished his cigarette and he turned to me and told me that he was an old-fashioned man with old-fashioned values, and that he isn't going to change at his age, but that it isn't his business what I do in my personal life, as long as I won't let it affect my tennis."  
Andy mauled over that for a moment. "Doesn't sound too bad, he could have freaked out much worse."  
Roger leaned back and complemented the ceiling, and Andy watched those long lashes blink several times before he continued to speak. "It's just that- he's barely spoken to me since. I mean, when I lost in Indian Wells, he didn't call me after the match. I waited, eventually I called him, I asked him why he hadn't called. He didn't really have an answer. At the end he apologized. I thought he needed time to adjust."  
"But?"  
"He called after I lost Miami," He glanced toward Andy. "In Miami, I mean." Andy smiled wryly at that, but didn't say a word. "I could just hear the disappointment in his voice. He couldn't understand why I lost the match, And then he asked me if there is something he *should* know…" Roger grimaced.  
"What?"  
"He pretty much asked me why Canas was in my head. The way he stammered, and judging by the questions he asked me, I could tell what he was asking me if there used to be anything between us"  
"You're fucking kidding me. Canas is a total homophobe, and has a girlfriend"  
Roger snorted "Yes, he think turned skeptic about half the tour after he realized Mirka and I were putting on an act.He's being very frosty with her, too, by the way - that's not helping either." There was a short pause. "I got really mad. I don't think I ever got mad at him before. I told him that Canas kept grinding and I made too many errors, fucking bad day, I choked a bit at the end, too - told him his theory was nonsense. I was really frustrated, and angry, and upset. I could have used a good word from him, you know? And he comes up with that?!"  
Andy sighed and said nothing. He felt what Roger needed was for him to just listen. He rested a comforting hand against Roger's knee, kneading it softly. "What did you say to him?"  
Roger was drawing circles with his index finger along the back of Andy's hand. "I told him that it took a lot out of me to even tell him. And that I can't believe he would use it like that. Never mind that it was just a stupid thing to say."  
Andy gave Roger's knee a firm squeeze. "It really was. After all, it's not like my sexual prowess ever stopped you from beating me."  
Roger smiled sadly "Maybe you should fuck me harder the night before."  
"Yea, right. As if you'd let my dick get anywhere near you during a tournament."  
Roger smiled, but the smile never reached his eyes, which were following the little circles he was still drawing on Andy's hand. Andy reached out and touched Roger's chin, making him meet his eyes. "Hey. What did Roche say?"  
Roger leaned into the touch "That maybe I shouldn't have told him. He said I'm sorry Roger, I just don't know how to deal with that."  
Andy closed his eyes. Damn that man to hell. He knew he was never-ever-not-in-a-million-years going to tell Jimmy, but then again - he never had any hopes Jimmy would take it well. He expected more from Roche. Mild-mannered elderly gentleman Roche. Roger valued his opinion so much. Fuck. "God. Roger. I'm sorry. So sorry."  
Roger drew a shuddering breath. "I thought he needed time to get over it. To get over that I lied to him for so long. But…"  
Andy's hand came around and across his cheek to cradle the base of his neck, rubbing the tense muscles. "Not working?"  
Roger bit hard into his lip. "Practice is- it's just, horrible. We barely talk. I hit the ball, he comments about my lack of aggressiveness on the backhand side. I nod, but I can't bring myself to really listen. He's distant, he's aloof." He shrugged helplessly.  
"Why the hell didn't you tell me about this sooner?" Oh. Man. That came out harsher than he intended, but knowing Roger didn't tell him simply hurt.  
"I-Sorry. I'm sorry." The lump at the base of Roger's throat was getting intolerable, and he was wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "I thought you'd be furious I told him, it wasn't what we agreed on."  
"Well, I was hardly happy at first but-Rog, Jesus." Andy's voice was low and urgent. "We're supposed to be-this relationship is supposed to be-You've been going through something that’s obviously painful for you, it could have an impact on you, on me, on us! How could you not come to me with it?"  
Roger inhaled deeply through his noise, and took a shuddering breath.  
"I'm sorry. I-I didn't want to face it. I didn't want to talk about it. I thought he'll get over it and then I could tell you, because it would be alright, but…" He bowed his head. "I'm sorry."  
Andy turned to Roger and shifted so Roger was in between his legs. He then grasped his face in his hands, lifting it so that Roger's red-rimmed eyes met his. "Hey, Shh." Roger's misery caught him in the gut. Sharp and painfully familiar, because when he was 16 and reveled to Mardy, on April's first - just to be on the safe side - not that he was gay or anything, but about a mutual jerk-off session with a boy from Juniors. Mardy's reaction was horror mixed with disgust, so Andy was forced to start laughing hysterically and Fools Day! Oh, Jesus Christ Mardy, you fucking idiot, you should have seen the look on your face. And Mardy started laughing and Oh you are such a fucker, you have got to be kidding me, man, what the fuck is wrong with you, this isn't funny!"  
He never tried again with him.  
"Hey, it's okay". He pressed his lips to Roger's forehand, swallowing on his own tears, because this was getting him choked up and for fucks sake, one of them being a mess was enough. "I know how that feels like." He drew back a little bit and leaned his forehand against Roger again. "Don't-you don't need to say I'm sorry to me."  
Roger sniffled loudly, his arms tightening on Andy's shoulders. "Sometimes I just really…"  
Andy frowned, caressing Roger's cheek. "Really what?"  
"Mi-Miss Peter." Roger flung a hand across his face, trying to suffocate the tears back, control the quiver of the bottom lip.  
Andy closed his eyes. There was no need to ask which Peter. He pulled Roger against him and enveloped him in his arms, feeling the rigidness of his body as he tried to control the flow of memories, and his tears, which came out as long, shuddering sniffles.  
"You-" He hesitated for a moment "You never told me how you told him."  
Roger sniffed, his voice muffled against Andy's ear. "I didn't." He raised his head and leaned his forehead against Andy's, trying to control his breathing enough to speak clearly. "He caught me looking at some gay porn online."  
Andy couldn't help but snicker at that. "Oh. Jesus. Were you in the middle of…?" He signaled with his hand.  
"Nein!" Roger blushed Crimson. "I would have killed myself had that happened. I was just, you know. Looking."  
Andy laughed heartily, Roger had delicate sensibilities sometimes. "Right, lucky for you it wasn't 5 minutes later. So, what did you do when he caught you?"  
"I ran out of the room. He called after me, but I didn't stop. I was so embarrassed and scared of his reaction. I didn't come back. I thought he would stop coaching me, call me names, tell my parents."  
Andy watched as Roger shuddered visibly at the thought. He knew Roger tried to come out to his parents just once, after winning Wimbledon as a junior. He tried to do that the way many gay teenagers did, by trying to gauge the parent's reactions to homosexuality in general. His father's reaction was so negative, Roger never dared to try again. Andy's own parents had known for a while, and they took it rather well, considering, but they didn't know about his relationship with Roger. Deep down Andy wondered whether it would be better had they thought he can't win against the guy because he's sleeping with him, rather than thinking that their son is simply the lesser player, which was, in fact, the correct answer.  
Roger's voice knocked Andy out of his reverie. "He found me at the courts around 5 AM in the morning, sitting against the net post."  
Andy smiled; he had the mental image nailed. "What did he say?"  
"Nothing," Roger shrugged, still at awe at the memory…"I was sitting there, and I didn't hear him coming. Suddenly I look up and I see him standing over me. He threw a racquet at my lap and suggested I mope less and play more."  
Andy's eyebrows shot up. "Um, he thought you were up for a little practice at 5 AM in the morning?"  
"Nope, wasn't practice. We just played, sets. A match. Kept score and all"  
"Who won?"  
"He did, of course. I did horribly. I was such an emotional mess, I hurled the racquet, got mad after every single point, called myself names. He didn't say anything, which was weird, because he was really strict about me acting badly on court. So, I lost. I just sat down in the middle of the court, I was too afraid to come to the net. Peter, he-" Roger paused at that, taking a big breath. "He just stepped over the net and gave me this big hug". He wiped at his eyes. "I just couldn't believe it, you know? That he didn't freak out. He let me take it all on the balls and the racquets, and then he just. Held me. You know?"  
Andy ran his hands over Roger's bare back, tracing his shoulder blades, scratching along the spine, watching Roger lean into the touch. "Yeah. Pretty decent thing to do."  
"Then, he sat me down, right there on the court. And gave me that old 'Porn isn't like in real life and it doesn't look like that in reality" lecture."  
Andy chuckled at that. "Sorry, Sorry, but - God. I can just see your face."  
Roger snorted. "I couldn't look at him. I don't think I heard a word he said. I was embarrassed out of my mind." His expression turned somber once more. "He then asked me if I was confused." Roger shrugged. "I said no. Um. Actually, I think I just shook my head. I was sort of staring at my tennis shoes at the time. But I said no. Not at 16. Not anymore. I already knew I was gay."  
Andy rubbed at his face. "Yea. Same here." He twined a finger in the soft hair at the back of Roger's head, where it curled widely, fresh from shower, untamed by 100$ hair mousse - which is how he liked it most - and tugged softly, trying to get Roger to go on. "So, what happened then?"  
"He just said it was fine if I was gay." Roger raised his head a bit. "I don't remember, you know – everything he said afterwards. He promised he wouldn't talk to my parents if I didn't want to tell them, I was pretty focused on that." He moved his head in a circular motion against Andy's hand, encouraging Andy's fingers to dig deeper into his hair. "And basically did everything to reassure me I wasn't a sinner, or disgusting, or everything I thought I was when I was a kid." He sighed. "Then he sent me to sleep, but I could always talk to him, you know. When I wa-was depressed, or unhappy. He always listened, even when he wasn't my coach anymore, I could always call him." Roger closed his eyes with a gasp, and Andy watched a tear rolling down his cheek. "I loved him so much, He was just…" His breaths were shorter again, like he was barely controlling himself. "He was such a great guy. And just…It was all my fault."  
The end of that sentence died on a shuddering gasp, a muffled, choked up sob , and he pushed slightly away and out of the circle of Andy's arms, covered his face in his hands, his chest heaving with the pain of it. Andy's heart crumbled when he saw like that, because, even though Peter Carter's death was years before he and Roger got together, or even knew each other as anything more that tennis rivals - he knew this was an old wound, but one that never truly healed, and no matter what anyone told Roger, no one was ever able to completely convince him that suggesting South-Africa as a vacation resort wasn't what killed the man.  
And he didn't know what to say to make Roger feel better, so just pulled him back against him, enfolding him in his arms, hugging him tightly. "Roger. Rog. Hey. I'm here. Hey. It's going to be okay." Roger barely made a sound, but he could feel his body shaking hard in his embrace, the way his breath came out in long, shuddering gasps, and he didn't have to look at him to know his teeth has sunk deep into lower lip in an effort to keep the sobs at bay, and to know his fists were clenched tightly at the sides of his body, while struggling to maintain his self control. Andy reached to hold Roger's face in the palms of his hands and waited for his eyes. "Hey, look at me."  
Roger shook his head, his eyes shut, unable to face the emotions. "Dammit Roger, you look at me."  
His voice has just enough authority in it to make Roger startle, and open his eyes. Now it was Andy who had to take measured breaths, because now HE was on the brink on losing it, there was something about Roger's naked pain which caught him in the gut every single time. "I'm only going to say this once." He lifted Roger's head just a little bit, when Roger blinked on the tears furiously and glanced away. "It's not your fault. Tell me you know this."  
"Sometimes." He mouthed, looking downward. Andy watched a tear roll down his cheek. "Most of the time. Just not, you know. Today."  
"Jesus Christ on Toast." He sighed "Roger, it's the last thing he would have wanted."  
Roger groaned. "Andy… can you please. Please. I just. I don't want to talk about it anymore…" He let his head drop from between Andy's palms and onto his shoulder, and sniffled loudly. "Can you just put your hands were they were before, please."  
Andy blinked, glancing down to the brown, curly head on his shoulder, and tentatively wrapped his arms around the bare back. "Like that?"  
There was a little, breathy sigh and a nod against his shoulder and Andy closed his eyes at the blessed feeling of Roger's arms tightening around him and the feeling of that shaggy head burrowing in the crook of Andy's neck, snuggling closer.  
Andy shifted, so he could lean more-or-less comfortably against the wall, and pulled Roger slightly toward him, adjusting his legs so Roger could sit in his lap.  
Roger, head still buried deep against Andy's neck, moved wherever Andy directed him to move. There was no resistance this time, no struggle to keep a lid on his emotions. Andy could feel the wet and the warmth of Roger's tears as he cried softly against his shoulder, and knew the dam had been broken.  
Andy closed his eyes against his own tears, because that was just killing him, and stroked Roger's back in long, circular motions, offering him that silent comfort, letting the man he loved unload all the tension, anxiety, anger and sadness of those past few months.

For just once, Andy thought, he would have gladly replaced all of his quick wit for having that special ability to comfort Roger, to be able to mumble those soothing little words in Roger's ear.  
Mirka was good at this, he knew. He wasn't. When Roger lost Rome last year and Andy snuck to his hotel room, he found him lying on the sofa, his head in Mirka's lap with his legs propped up and his arm shielding over his eyes, and her talking to him softly in a language he did not understand – he just left. The fact Mirka would usually say those comforting little words in Swiss-German, a language Andy could barely understand, only served to make Andy feel like inadequate boyfriend and an outsider.  
Of course, Andy came back a little later when the initial sting of Roger's loss had probably faded a bit. Roger didn't even expect him to be there, so he was elated and glad to see him there, but he didn't seek comfort from him, not that way.  
It wasn't that he was jealous of Mirka, there was no reason for it, after her initial reservetions about him, she had been a loyal friend to the both of them for the past year and a half - it was just that she was a natural in something Andy felt was really bad in.

So they sat like that for a while, and gradually, he felt Roger relaxing against him, the clutch of his fingers against his skin relaxing, the heaves subsiding into the occasional shuddering breath, and then stillness. Roger didn't move, nor gave any indication he was going to. If it wasn't for the sniffing and the slight shake of shoulders, Andy would have wondered whether he was breathing, with his face pressed against Andy's shoulder blade like that.  
He kissed the top of Roger's head, still rubbing his back. "Roger?"  
Slowly, Roger raised a bleary head, sniffing heavily "Yea." Grimacing, he wiped at his face. "Oh Jesus." He drew back from Andy ever so slightly. "Let me up, I need to blow my nose."  
"I assumed that's what you used my T shirt for." Andy deadpanned, his fingers sliding to Roger's waist, settling and tightening.  
"No." Roger sulked, wiping at his nose inelegantly with the back of his hand, and Andy had to bit his lip to avoid grinning. His shirt was about hundred years old, and now a wet sticky mess anyway, but Roger simply had too good manners than to wipe his face on it consciously, even though he spent the last 15 minutes wetting it with stuff which probably weren't just tears.  
Roger sniffed again, and moved against him uneasily. "Com' on, 'm serious, let me up, that's just gross."  
"Yea, okay – don't bother getting up, I could swear there was a pack of tissues in my pocket this morning. My allergies are really acting up." He arched up a bit, trying to reach the pack of tissues shoved in the back of his sweatpants, which proved to be a little challenging with a 80 kg man sitting in his lap. "Um, want to cooperate a little bit?"  
Roger shifted his weight to allow Andy to reach behind him and pull out the tissues. "O-kay." Andy handed the crumpled tissues to his boyfriend and shrugged. "They just look used, honest."  
He watched fondly as Roger eyed the tissue suspiciously before straightening it, averted his face, and blew his nose noisily, twice.  
Flicking the soiled paper in an expert touch to a nearby trashcan, Roger heaved a great sigh, and finally relaxed enough to meet Andy's eyes, and hold.  
"Hey." His voice was slightly sheepish, but the eyes who looked straight into Andy's were warm and steady, and it did Andy's heart good to see that.  
"Hey yourself, um…" He hesitated. "I know it's hugely moronic question, but-are you okay?"  
"I'll be fine." The way his bit on his lower lip told Andy differently.  
"Liar Liar, pants on fire."  
Roger snorted, and then shrugged and closed his eyes. "I don't know, actually."  
Andy ran his hands up and down his arms. "Yeah, I kinda figured that."  
Roger shook his head "Sorry I fell apart like that." He shrugged helplessly. "I'm not sure…" He tucked his hair behind his ears nervously. "I don't know exactly what…what came over me."  
He wiped angrily at his face. "Jesus, am I ever going to be able to control these tears, God! It's like I'm a child. Can it just stop? Sick of it. So sick of it!"  
Andy frowned in alarm and wrapped his arms tighter around the shaking man. "Hey, Hey. Come here, Roger. Rog..."  
Roger shook his head, but let himself be pulled back into Andy's embrace. "I'm sorry; I must be having a total melt-down, huh?" He tucked his chin on Andy's shoulder and mumbled into his neck. "Just call for the guys with the white robes, should be a fun press release. 'Top ranked Tennis player coming unglued."  
"Shut up". Roger looked up, startled, and Andy hoped he sounded reassuring and authoritative, rather than hysterical, but Roger talking like that freaked him out. "You're not 'coming unglued', you've just been dealing with a lot, alright? Coming out to Roche is some some tough shit to deal with by yourself, now you're telling me and... "He shrugged. "You're just feeling everything a little more acutely than usual, that's all. Hey." He held Roger's eyes. "I know how you can be, let yourself feel... but don't beat yourself up, you're just torturing yourself right now, don't do that."

Roger looked at Andy with wet eyes and then nodded, swallowing hard. "I'm trying."  
He pressed his face against Andy, and took a long, shuddering breath. "It's just difficult you know." He closed his eyes in regret. "I wish I had told you sooner, you don't know how tough those last few months had been."  
"I can imagine." Andy paused, and sighed, rubbing his face. "Was I that blind all those months?"  
Oh fucking hell, he didn't mean to say that, Roger was obviously not in a good place emotionally, he didn't mean to make it harder on him, but the words just poured out. "I mean, we're not together every week or every tournament or whatsnot, but.. Jesus, Roger. I knew something was wrong but I thought you were just upset about your results." Without intending to, Andy found his voice cracking up, and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. "I get it, I was a jerk to you in Australia..." He gulped. "And I get it, okay. I get it that you were worried about my reaction, but... I had to have screwed something up for you to... have that little trust in me, to keep on this charade for so long." He raised his eyes at Roger, who wasn't meeting his eyes. "What did I do to fuck up?"

oger looked, if possible, even more miserable, and brought his arms around Andy, regret etched all over his face in harsh lines. "Nothing. You didn't do anything. God, I'm sorry .The whole thing just snowed-ball, at first... I was afraid of your reaction, and then I was just, ashamed I guess. You and I had an agreement, not to tell anyone unless we discussed it beforehand, and unless we knew the other person would be supportive. I broke it, and the one person I choose to come out to - and it's this, this...horrible mess. I couldn't face you after making such an stupid decision. I really thought he'd take it better."  
Roger sniffed, blinking on tears. "I was deluding myself...Tony's not Peter, far from it... and I just didn't I know how to tell you what an idiot I've been. I didn't want to deal with it, telling you would mean I'd have to deal with it. Tony was in Australia so I thought wouldn't have to. I thought it would be okay once we got together again, focusing on the clay season, it just isn't, it isn't okay, it's just got worse."  
He leaned his forehead against Andy, and murmured against the side of his mouth. "You didn't fuck up, I didn't tell you because of me, not because of you."

Andy nodded, not trusting his voice. He brought his hand against Roger's cheek, caressing shakily, wiping away the still falling tears, relishing on the feeling of stubble against the back of his fingers. "Okay." He swallowed, as his fingers delved deep into Roger's hair. "Well, not exactly okay, but... okay. Just...don't you fucking do that again."  
"Promise." Roger mumbled, and Andy sighed softly, shaky and half frozen as Roger's warm lips slide against his cheek to his lips, strong arms tightening around his body, a hand sliding down his chest to rest across his belly, rubbing circles, comforting and arousing all at the same time. There was a soft whisper of "Lieb." against his mouth and with a moan he shifts his head to the left and opened his lips to welcome Roger's.  
Roger was kissing him softly, gentle suckle on his tongue, nibbling on his lips. Roger's taste and smell all around him. God fucking hell, how could they have done so little of that tonight?  
Roger moaned into the kiss, and the sound vibrated against Andy's lips and tongue, sending a ripple of passion down his body, accented by the gentle sucking on his tongue. Something was digging into his lower back and buttocks as he pressed against the wall, a stray tennis ball from the feel of it, but Andy paid it no mind. He grasped Roger's broad shoulders, and pulled him roughly against him, kissing him hungrily now. Roger's face were moist from tears and probably other things but Andy doesn't care, because his face are almost as wet and the sweetness-saltiness of Roger's mouth is intoxicating."God, Rog."

Roger gasped in surprise as Andy pulled him hard, struggling for balance. He caught himself on Andy's shoulders, re-adjusting his legs quickly so he was straddling Andy, and sat against him with a surprised and aroused moan. Andy made a strangled sound as Roger slammed against him and let his head drop back against the wall, watching Roger through hooded eyes. He ran his hand down Roger's body, fingers delving into the wet hair of his chest and belly, making Roger shudder. "God, you're dripping."  
"You're making me hot." Roger panted, glistening from sweat and tears, and ground his hips against Andy, showing the American just how turned on he was. "I don't want to talk anymore tonight. Sick of talking, just want this." He rolled his hips.  
Andy shivered at the friction against his dick, and groaned loudly. He grabbed the back of Roger's head and pulled him down for a kiss, but Roger bit on his lower lip instead and didn't stop moving his hips in those circular little thrusts that created rythem and friction and Fuck oh fuck. Was Roger's intention to make him cream his pants? "Ahh. Bastard, knock it off." He moaned.  
"Oh, Can't. Lose this thing already, dammit."  
Andy gasped at the feeling of Roger's supple lips against the sensitive skin of his earlob and jaw. "Lift the fuck up, then." He growled back, his fingers tightening on Roger's waist.  
Roger did, giving Andy a chance to rise a bit and pull down his sweat pants. He fumbled on the lacing, finally pulling the sweatpants down his legs, moaning a bit as his dick slapped back against his belly. God, he was so hard. He let himself bang back against the wall as he slide back down, careless about the skretchy texture against his back, and his fingers slide down to Roger's thighs, grasping, massaging, pinching.  
"Oh fuck-oh-oh." Roger was gloriously and completely naked then, rocking against him, making those little needy, raspy breathes against his ear, small moans of assent. And there were those long, long legs, hairy knees and strong thighs pressing against the side of his body, hardness against hardness. Yes Oh, yess. He needed more. He reached down to cup Roger, lifting his balls, rolling the sacks gently in his hand and gave him a good stroke. Base to head. "God!" Roger shuddered, biting into his lower lip, and his head fell forward, ducking down against Andy's shoulder. He raised up just a little bit on his toes, leaning his palms against Andy's shoulders and begun thrusting into Andy's hand. "Ohh, Oh. Yes. This-just... Andy."  
"Good baby?" Andy aligned himself against Roger, giving both their dicks a nice, long sqeeze together, using pre-cum as lube.  
"Yeahh..." Roger moaned brokenly, fingers digging deep into Andy's shoulder. Andy could see him watching their dicks rubbing together, and he twitched on the uptrust. But fuck it was hot, Roger watching them, gasping like that. He whimpered Roger's name in the most pathatic manner, and when Roger raised his head, he moved forward to kiss him, all while giving his dick a little thumb, a circle against the head. Roger twiched in his hand and groaned repeatedly into his mouth, and Oh, oh, oh. God he was close, and so was Roger.

"Ah, Andy, Andy. Wait, G-God. Wait wait wait." Roger broke away from the kiss with a groan and buried his face on the arm which was clasping Andy's shoulder as encore. He sent his other arm to grab Andy's wrist, to stop and steady it.  
Andy's hand froze on the up thrust. He stifled a groan from the loss. "Nggh?"  
Roger, breathing hard, unclasped Andy's hands from their dicks, shuddering. "I-God. Please. I just-". He swallowed hard and pressed his lips against Andy's neck, hiding his face, gasping for breath right across Andy's pulse point. "Sorry, sorry. Please."  
"Ah." Andy moved his hand to clasp the nape of Roger's neck."Babe, whatever you want, just try and get verbal with me, I'm not a mind-reader"  
"Fuck me."

Andy's eyes opened at that. Two days before a tournament, that was unusual.  
Right before and during tournaments, they usually found other ways for mutual pleasure than actual penetration. Roger, in particular, was always worried about bottoming for Andy too close to a tournament, and Andy recalled all too well their first time, an overly enthusiastic love-making session a day before a first round match that caused Roger some serious discomfort, he won his match, and eventually the tournament, but the lesson was well learned.

So, They were very creative in finding replacements for going "all the way" right before tournaments, and sometimes they even fucked, as in – Andy was getting fucked. He didn't have particular problems with getting fucked before tournaments, though they were cautious about it a day before a match. He secretly liked to think it was because Roger wasn't quite as large as he was (which was true, but only by a fraction), but it was mostly because Roger was a master of long and leisurely preparation, taking it VERY slow and gentle, till Andy was just about ready to scream himself hoarse with frustration, quite willing to have Roger slam in hard.

"Rog," Andy whispered, getting, if possible, even harder. "The Tournament. You'll...Oh. Christ."  
"There are two more days." There was a tongue against his pulse point, and hot breaths. "We both get a Bye."  
"Rogg-ah." Andy gasped as he felt the delicate nibbles across his collar-bone and could feel his dick twitching between their bodies in response. Super-sensitive spot for him, Roger just wasn't playing fair. "Oh, fuck. Roger, Come on, give me a second here." He pushed Roger slightly back and could see the flash of hurt on Roger's face at that, but could also see the nearly possessed, intent look in his eyes.  
"Okay." Andy took a deep breath. "You've had a rough day; you're asking me to do something we almost never do. I'm just a little…" He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I don't want to fuck it up here, which doesn't mean I don't want to fuck, period, but… "  
The already feeble protest died with a groan when Roger leaned forward to capture his lips with his. Andy's mouth opened under the pressure, so good. So fucking good.  
Roger's tongue invaded his mouth and Andy could taste his own blood, from where Roger bit on his lip earlier, and feel the vibrations as Roger moaned inside his mouth, his five o'clock Shadow scratchy against his face. Overcome with desire, he grabbed Roger's head and deepened the kiss, licking, tasting, exploring. Brutally, artlessly, gracelessly, but oh-so very sweet. Roger moaned again and Andy could feel the Swiss's fingers splaying against his shoulders as Andy moved to suck on his tongue.  
'Yeah. Nggghah".Roger groaned again, throwing his head back and breaking the kiss. He shifted his hips against Andy, pressing himself against his hardness "Yeah.God, And-y. Gah-oh. Pleasepleaseplease. .."  
Andy banged his head back against the wall, eyes rolling back under the haze of lust. He was harder than a rock and about to explode. "Fucking fuck. Yeah.Yeah. bed."  
"'ts good enough. Now. Like this."  
Andy's entire body shuddered as he felt Roger's hand circling and holding his dick, running his thumb across the head, gathering up the moister. A second later he was startled back to reality when he felt Roger, with feline-like grace, rising on his toes and, using his left hand on Andy's shoulder for balance, maneuvered himself backwards, fucking AIMING, about to sit on his dick with zero preparation or lube.  
"What the fuck." He moved quickly to grab Roger by the waist, hard enough to make Roger wince. "Roger. What are you doing?"  
Roger bit his lip, looking anywhere but at Andy. "I-I'm sorry. I just wanted to feel it."  
Andy repeated. "Feel it." His frown deepened. "Feel what? My dick tearing you up? Christ, Roger. Where is your head?"  
Roger reddened and made a move to get up. "I'm just going to…"  
Andy rolled his eyes and tightened his hands on the man's hips, settling Roger back against him so that their dicks rubbed, causing both men to sigh softly. Roger looked away, and Andy thought he looked like a kid who got with his hand in the cookie jar and was about to receive an ass-whopping.  
"Where do you think you're going?" He raised his hand to caress Roger's cheek, tracing his face with his thumb and watched the other man shiver and lean into the touch.  
"..'thought you wouldn't want to anymore." He met Andy's eyes. "Wouldn't blame you. I didn't mean to do that, I truly am sorry."  
Andy's eyes narrowed. "Roger. It has been like, what? Four months since I last fucked you? It would have hurt like a son of a bitch. I don't get off on seeing you in pain, and last time I checked, you didn't get off on being in pain, either."  
"I know. It was just a stupid fantasy."  
Andy blinked. "A Fantasy? So it is something you want, Have it *hurt*?"  
Roger shook his head quickly. "No. No. Just-" He shrugged and sighed. "Yea. Maybe. Yeah. A little."  
Andy complemented, looked down between their bodies, back to Roger, and then ran his hands down Roger's body, stopping over the peaked nipples, and squeezed. Way harder than he normally would, giving the small nubs a vicious little twist at the end. Roger choked on a groan, and swore something in Swiss-German, thrusting forward.  
Andy panted, feeling the surge in his dick. "God. You're so hot like this. This shouldn't be turning me on."  
"Does it?"  
"Yeah. Fuck yeah." Andy leaned forward to catch his lips in a breathless kiss and Roger's lips parted for him instantly, God, but he loved that. Roger didn't kiss like anyone else he knew, because his kisses didn't have a pattern, there was an entire glossary of Roger kisses and they changed along with his mood. This one was rough and hungry and he knew his lips are going to look bee stung afterwards, from the suction and Roger's unshaved face. He decided to experiment and suckled on Roger's lips, and then bit down. Hard – enough to break skin. Roger shivered in his arms and Andy was instantly rewarded with a lengthy moan of his name as Roger's head titled all the way back.  
"That's really how you want it, then?" He breathed into Roger's neck, his fingers sliding around and giving his ass a firm squeeze, pulling him harder against him. "Rough?" his teeth sank into Roger's neck.  
"Ahh. Ahh. God. Yeah. Ah-Yeah."  
"Okay."  
Roger lifted his head, panting and breathless. "Really?"  
Andy sighed. "I'm not exactly sure what's going on with you, but yeah – I'll play along with whatever you have in mind, within limits of reason, and I think you know what those are."  
Andy watched as Roger's face blushed red hot, and he made a grab for him. "Hey, Hey. No. Come on. Just… don't let me hurt you, okay?"  
And then Roger's mouth was on him, and their lips collided and Andy felt like Roger was eating him, devouring him, kiss out of burning need and gratitude and lust and whatnot. He moaned at that, feeling the wetness of Roger's dick against his thigh and he was pretty darned sure he was leaking all over as well. Fucking fuck. How on earth was he suppose last long enough to do any of that tonight?  
Gracelessly, he pushed Roger away from. "Yeah, okay. Lets fuck then, 10 seconds more I'm going to be useless for the rest of the evening."  
Roger stumbled off Andy and to the floor, rose to his feet and reached out to help Andy to his feet as well. Andy stood up with a groan, and threw off the boxer shorts, all bunched up on one leg, in the process. "Oh Christ, my ass fell asleep. Next time I come camp out with you on the floor talk me out of it, will you?"  
Roger grabbed Andy and pulled him closer. "Stop complaining, and come here."  
Andy complied, and stifled a groan when Roger's strong, long fingers delved deep into the muscles of his ass, rocking Andy against him.  
"Oh. God. Yeah." Andy's hands tightened on Roger's shoulders, and he let his head fall slightly back, and of course Roger used that to do that nibbling on neck thing again, Fuck, but that was a turn on.  
"I thought you wanted me to fuck you." Andy choked out.  
"God." There was a long lick to Andy's neck at that. "I do."  
"Not going to happen if you keep that up. And don't you fucking dare!" He stopped Roger's hand as it slide down to cup him. "Not kidding, here."  
Roger snorted into his neck, smirking. "What are you, seventeen?"  
"Come on already." Andy growled, stung, pushing Roger toward the bed. "Or you'll have to find someone else to fuck you tonight."  
Roger flashed a smile at him, and Andy replied with a slight shove that sent Roger flying across their king-size bed, face down.  
Roger gasped in surprise, his shoulders tensing, but – upon realizing Andy's intentions, put his head back down on the bed, using his hands as a pillow, his entire body tense with expectancy.  
Andy studied him carefully, and then got on the bed, sitting carefully on the back of Roger's thighs.  
He leaned forward to press his chest against him, and he could feel the long shudder running down Roger's back when he did that, and couldn't stop himself from sniffing Roger a bit, inhaling on the familiar scent of him at the nap of his neck, soap and musk and arousal.  
"You smell good." He nipped Roger's ear at that, rubbing against him a little.  
Roger groaned something ineligible, and moved his hand underneath his body to touch himself. Andy's eyes narrowed and he leaned forward to grab the Swiss’s wrists, twisting both behind his back, not enough to hurt – Roger was limber, but it enough to be felt. "Who said you get to touch yourself?”  
Roger groaned into the pillow, wiggling his hips against the mattress and then backwards against Andy. “Ahh.”  
Andy, satisfied that the sound was not one of discomfort, grinned and licked the back of Roger’s neck, then moved down his body, tracing the spine with his tongue, still holding Roger’s wrists in his hand.  
“You’re going to wait,” Andy gasped out between licks and nips, “Till I’ve got my dick deep in you,” he bite down on one butt cheek, making Roger shudder, “And I think you’ve begged prettily enough.”  
He finally lowered his head, and flicked Roger’s hole with his tongue.  
“Ah. Fuck!” Roger sobbed underneath him, bucking back against his tongue, and the rare obcenity from the Swiss’s lips sent a sweet surge of desire through Andy’s dick. He tightened his grip on Roger’s wrists, angling them in such a way that would make it harder for Roger to struggle. He wished he had a third hand so he could touch himself, but then again – if Roger keep making those voices, he might come from that alone. He flicked his hole again, pressing his tongue harder this time, not having optimal access due to the angle and his hands being otherwise occupied.  
Roger shuddered and banged his head against the pillow, crying out in Swiss german. He struggled hard against Andy’s grip, so much so Andy had to stop doing what he was doing and use his upper body weight to restrain him, fuck it – Roger was strong.  
Andy frowned, he wasn't sure where the line was between going along with Roger’s little fantasy, and being a bastard. Did Roger want him to insist on the ‘no touching’ thing, or was disobeying a sign Roger was done playing along and just wanted to get off?  
He eased his grip a fraction. "Rog. Um. I’m not sure what you want me to do here. Do you want me to let go of your hands and just get you off?”  
There was a pause – and then quick, jerky shake of the head from Roger and Andy swollowed hard, complementing the answer. “You sure?”  
“No.”  
Roger’s voice was shaky, muffled against the pillow, but Andy could hear the smile in the sheepish voice. “My dick is kinda disagreeing with itself right now, but no, I don’t want you to stop.”  
Andy planted a kiss on Roger’s back. “Okay then. Don’t move, I need to bring something - I’ll be right back – touch yourself, and the only thing you’ll fuck till Wimbledon will be your own hand, get it?”  
“Yeah.”  
Andy got off the bed and crossed the room to where their luggage were, he opened Roger’s luggage and got out several Banadas, as well as a bottle of lube. He looked down, his dick was hard and leaking, on the other side of painful. He grabbed his balls, closed his eyes and gave a firm squeeze, that fucking hurt, but it took of the edge.  
Getting back to the bed, Roger was still lying in the same position, only the fingernails digging into the bed and harsh pants were an indication of how turned on he was.  
“Roll over.”  
Roger complied, and Andy was just struck by the sight of him. Shaggy, moist curles stuck to his forehead, flushed cheeks, pouty lip, all lickable and. Christ. Harder than a rock.  
Andy held up the bandanna, wiggling it on one finger and raised an eyebrow suggestively. Roger's eyes widened.  
"Put your hands above your head?” Andy phrased it as a question, to give Roger a chance to refuse, but Roger licked his lips, and nodded furiously, all shaky and fervent, and put his hands up.  
Andy approached the bed and leaned forward to kiss him, and whispered “Let me know if it gets too much.”  
Roger raised his head to glare, and Andy's eyes glinted just enough to let Roger know he got the message. Get on with it.  
Not breaking eye contact with Roger, Andy tied his wrists together, and then secured both to the bedpost, so that Roger's arms were stretched above his head.  
Dedicatedly, he lowered his head, and blew hot air on Roger neck.  
"Yeah-” Roger panted. “Oh, God.”  
Interesting. Andy buried his head deep into Roger's neck, suckling and nibbling, and he could feel Roger's groan reverberating against his lips as he did, and glided his hand down to Roger's chest to pinch his nipples, simultaneously biting down hard on his neck  
"Ah- Andy, Jesus Christ. Can-t.”  
Instant reward from Roger, who arched the way up, partly to give Andy some space to work on, and partly because he apparently couldn't help himself. Jesus fuck, Andy thought, I'm going to come just by looking at him. He was half way across Roger, half crouching on the bed, not allowing any friction between their bodies yet, but yeah, time to change that.  
"So fucking hot like that.” He mumbled into Roger's chest, kissing down the hair trail down to his navel. Roger shivered underneath him, thrusting up uncontrollably, his panting punctured only by moans that mostly consisted of Andy's name and an obscenities in several languages.  
"Damn lucky, I am, that you don't grunt while playing tennis, I'd get a hard on – Oh. Just from watching your matches.”  
He lowered his head to Roger's dick, and licked – intentionally, very softly. Roger yelled and thrust up hard, and Andy could feel the salty taste of pre-come on his tongue. Damn it, Roger was close. They both were.  
"Oh. OH. Ah-yeah. maybe I should start while we play-Oh-a match. O-h. Come on, Yeah. Just more. Please,p-lease. More. Yeah. Fuck me already.”  
Andy shivered, the begging was killing him, and Roger was used his strong legs, which were not restrained to the bed, to attempt and pull Andy on top of him, it was working.  
He raised his head to look at Roger, he was washed in sweat, his head thrown back and he didn't have to look to know, from experience Roger's toes would be flexed all the way, as always when he was teetering on the edge.  
He moved up so that he was, finally, fully on top of the Swiss and crashed his lips against Roger's in a disorganized kiss, not brutal like earlier – just messy and aroused, delving his fingers into Roger's wet hair, and moaned obscenities into his mouth because it felt good, everything just felt oh-so good, and then he opened his eyes and caught Roger looking right at him.  
"And.” Roger's eyes were a well of emotion, naked vulnerability, and pure, undulated lust. "'love you. You know that, right?”  
"Yeah.” He leaned his forehead against Roger. “Fucking love you back, so fucking much.” They didn't often say that. Loving each other was something they just did, not discussed. Hearing the words felt like a warm, fuzzy blanket over his heart right. Saying them back felt just as good.  
"Still -” Andy was panting. “Still want me to fuck you hard?”  
"Yeah. Please. Yes. Now.”  
"Like this, tied up?”  
"Yeah.”  
"You may want a free hand eventually.”  
"I'll tell you if I need it free.”  
Andy pulled away slightly, and grabbed the other pillow from the bed and slapped Roger's thigh. “Lift up.”  
After settling the pillow underneath Roger's pelvis and helping him lean against the bedpost a little more, Andy reached for the lube.  
"Andy.”  
"Don't even, I call the shots here.”  
"But...”  
"No buts, you're just going to have to trust me to give you a good rough ride, while keeping you reasonably safe from harm and sparing you the humiliation of having to explain to the press why the draw sheet says w/d due to a rectal injury. That's the rules.” At least, he hoped he was capable of prolonging this.

There was defiance in Roger's eyes at that, but he shut up, and Andy took his time lifting Roger's legs to rest against his shoulders. The frontal position wasn't easy for two long-limbed men, but Andy wasn't taking chances with Roger face down, he wanted to be able to see if he was alright.  
Andy reached to pull the naked ass closer to him, and drizzled a careless amount of lube on him, smearing it around a bit against Roger's hole, delving his fingers inside just a bit. “Ohhhhhh. Jesus God. Yess. Yeah.”  
Andy swallowed on a groan, stroking himself once with the same sticky hand. Once. He was simply unable to deal with more pressure on his dick at the moment. That was as minimal a preparation as he dared risk.  
Roger was shivering from anticipation against him, his fingers were white from fisting the bandanas, his dick leaking against his belly, and he was breathing hard.  
Andy, however, was shaking from nervousness as he aligned himself against Roger's small opening, and gaped as his dick finally made contact. Shit, what was he thinking? They were both so methodical in their preparation of the other whenever they fucked. Slow and easy, lots of fingers before it, with plenty of lube - there was rarely much need for concern. The contrast between the anxiety he felt and how aroused he was was startling.  
"Andy, Jesus Christ. Come on already, come.. Oh. Ohhh.” The begging turned into a whimper as Andy started entering Roger, and, well, less lube, so he didn't exactly slide right in, so he hitched Roger's leg slightly higher, attempting a slight change in position, and - ”Oh holy fuck.”  
Roger. that stubborn impossible man, bucked against him, hard. And Andy slid almost half of the way in, tight ring of fire around his dick, and he shivered from the shock of it and closed his eyes. Ah-Ah-Ah.  
Underneath him, Roger was gasping, legs contracting against Andy’s shoulders, and he clamped tightly around him, so tight Andy could imagine feeling Roger's racing heartbeats against his dick, or maybe it was his own.  
“Shit. Ah. Fucking hell. Rog, you idiot. Are you okay?”  
Roger grunted hard and turned his head away from Andy. “Yeah,” he choked out.”Um, ah. ah. Don't know. Don't move for a sec. Kay?” Roger tried to turn his face away, but with his hands tied above his head, he was unable to hid the tears of pain shining in his eyes and the deep crease between his eyes.  
"Shit. Come on, Roger - Pu-Push out. I'm pulling out.”  
“No!”  
“I’m fucking hurting you”  
"Please. no. Just - Don't move. It would be worse. Stay. Give me a minute.”  
“Okay. Okay... calm down. Not moving.” God he wanted to move, he needed to move, his dick was screaming at him to move but can't can't can't.  
“Breath. Roger... breath. You gotta relax, babe. Nothing I can do otherwise.” He carefully slide his hands down to Roger thighs and rubbed, Roger inhaled shakily, but deeply. “That's it, more like that.”  
Andy looked down between their bodies, relieved Roger was still hard. He wrapped a hand against Roger's dick and stroked, thumb rubbing on the underside. Roger shuddered completely as a result, his belly hollowed and spasmed, and Andy's dick slide another milimiter in. Holy fuck, he was tight around against him like he couldn’t believe, how could Roger stand it?  
Roger groaned, but it wasn't a sound like before.  
"Rog?”  
"Ngh. Yeah. More. Please.”  
Andy swallowed, and slide all the way in.  
"Ah, Oh. Oh, godgodgod.” Roger cried and convoluted, arching his back, his legs sliding down from Andy’s shoulders to his back. He planted his heels at the small of Andy’s back, urging him on. “Yeah…oh f-ngh.” His voice was a half sob of need, or pain – most likely both.  
Jackpot.  
There was no stopping Andy anymore. There was just Roger underneath him and around him and Roger’s voice in his ears. Oh-oh-oh fuck.  
He grabbed Roger’s thighs and pulled him forward with a grunt, and then bent over him, using his hands to keep himself hovering above him rather than crushing Roger completely, and started setting a fast and furious pace. Judging from Roger’s trashing underneath him, he was not adverse to the pace nor the speed. Yeyesyes.  
He buried his face in the crook of Roger’s neck, unable to do much more than nuzzle and groan and listen to Roger answering moan vibrating against his lips with every thrust of his hips.  
A spark of pleasure begun pooling at his toes and traveled up. It was unbearable, unstoppable, and Andy felt his self control slipping, slipping, slipping away from him like a train off its rails. He clawed on the sheets and uncontrollably, upped the pace, stabbing wildly, no finesse or anything, but unable to stop it. Short, powerful thrusts into the blazing heat. He was absolutely pounding him.  
“Jesus, ohohoh. Sorry Ah. Sorry Oh fuck God. Rog, I can’t…”  
Roger convoluted again and cried out, his dick twitching between them, and Andy knew he was being too rough now, shoving into Roger, but he couldn’t help it, and Roger was still thrusting on the uprise, gasping and whimpering in three different languages.  
“Oh. OH. Oui, Oui Andy… T'aimer, Je veux que vous. More, pleaseohplease more. Oh, can’tcan’tcan’t. Ah. ”  
Roger’s whimpering took a desperate quality. And while Andy didn't catch all of that, he could tell that Roger was a feet and a half over the brink, but unable to cross. Shit, shit, shit.  
"Fucking fuck. Okay, okay. Wait baby wait.” He rested his forehead against Roger’s shoulder for the extra leverage, closing his eyes and trying to compose himself, slowing down the thrusting, but he could feel the sensations traveling up his dick, and he tried to clamp down on them but oh-oh-oh. Groaning, he used one hand to support himself up and the other to tug on the bandanna tying Roger’s hands together, even though Roger hasn’t asked, because dammit, he needed Roger’s hands on him and around him when they came.  
Roger groaned massively with what was probably the painful sensation of the blood flowing back to his hands at the midst of pleasure, and brought his hands around Andy, grabbing and holding on to him. God-oh God. There was nothing Andy could do to keep his orgasm at bay anymore, He needed Roger to come NOW. Moaning his name, he rolled his hips just once, before the sensation got too hard to bear, pulled half way out and then thrust back in, hard, in an angle he knew would clip Roger’s prostate just the right way.  
Roger let out some kind of strangled gasp, arched all the way back, banging his head against the head post, fingers clenching and splaying against Andy’s shoulders and Andy sneaked a shaky hand between their bodies. One clumsy stroke, two…  
Roger sobbed out his pleasure, and clenched around his dick so hard Andy could see only white at the back of his eyes, and he could feel Roger coming coming coming in pulses in wetness that pooled against his chest and then Andy was shuddering and fuckfuckohyessss.

 

Everything went grey and foggy for a moment, or five, and Andy didn’t know how long he was lying there, on top of Roger, gasping for breath, sweat pooling down his back, his lips against Roger’s skin, feeling his chest rising and falling beneath him. “Oh, God.” Roger’s sighed against his ear, ghostly whisper caressing his cheek.  
“Ngh.” Andy let his lips flutter against Roger’s shoulder, unable to do anything more organized than simply lying there in Roger’s arms. He just couldn’t move. “’m crushing you?”  
“Hmmm. Can’t feel it, can’t feel anything. Too much orgasm”  
Andy snorted against Roger’s shoulder, and lifted his head a fraction to look at him. Roger was wearing the sated, lazy expression of someone who was properly fucked and Andy couldn’t help but grin at him. “Yeah, same here.” He shuddered slightly, feeling himself softening, still inside Roger. “Ah. I need to pull out”.  
Roger’s eyes darkened just a little bit, and Andy could feel his hands tightening around him, pulling him closer. “Not yet” he mouthed softly to him. “Want you still in me when we do this...”  
“’kay.” Andy whispered, and then Roger’s lips found his,and the sweetness and hotness of it made his heart pound harder, it was a soft, slow kiss, with none of the urgency of their previous kisses today, and his semi hard dick gave a pitiful twitch, because of course no way he was getting hard again so soon after coming. He shuddered again, and Roger sighed into his mouth.  
“Ah. Gotta pull out. Too fucking sensitive.”  
“Okay, I’m not sure I’m quite ready for another round.”  
Andy smiled at that, pulled himself up and let his dick retreat from the confines of Roger’s body, slowly lowering Roger’s legs back to the bed as he pulled out, rubbing on the the quivering muscles there.  
Roger hissed and exhaled loudly, flinching as Andy drew out.  
“Roger?”  
Roger swallowed hard. “Don’t worry. Feels a bit like my spine had been removed, is all.”  
He pulled Andy back down against him. “Lie back down, don’t…” He blinked his lips. “I’m fine, I’m really good.”  
Andy didn’t listen and pulled back, immediately horrified. “Jesus, Roger”  
Roger blinked and looked away.”Don’t.”  
Andy let his forehead fall against Roger’s shoulder. Shit. “There’s blood on my…”  
“Stop, okay?” Roger pleaded “I’m fine.” He tried half-heartedly. “It’s not serious.”  
Andy raised his head to glare at Roger. “Right. You’re fucking bleeding, but it isn’t serious.”  
Muttering to himself, Andy leapt off the bed stalked off to the bathroom, leaving Roger to collapse back on the bed with a sigh. Thumbing at the blanket pooling at his feet, he pulled higher it to cover him from the waist down, and shielded his eyes with his hand. He fought the urge to inspect himself. It did hurt, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know whether there was actual damage caused.  
A moment later, Roger opened his eyes as the bed dipped from Andy’s weight, he put his shorts on, had a washcloth in his hand, and his eyes were intent on Roger.  
Andy didn't say anything as he moved the warm, wet cloth against Roger's chest and stomach throughly, cleaning him up.  
“Turn over.”  
Under Andy’s piercing gaze, Roger knew better than to argue and flipped over, burrowing his face inside the pillow.  
Andy, torn between anxiety, anger and concern, studied the long-limbed man in front him. Roger was embarrassed, he could tell. He didn’t have the heart to make it worse by chastising him for letting himself get hurt, for letting Andy hurt him.  
He ran his hand down the long slope of back, softly. “Hey, Can I take the blanket off?”  
“Do whatever you want, you ruined the mood already.” Roger’s voice was petulant, muffled against the pillow.  
Andy sighed and removed the blanket, watching as Roger tensed up.  
“Hey. Come on.” He put his hand on Roger’s back, stroking gently. “I need you to relax so I can do this, okay?”  
Roger didn’t respond, but spread his legs a fraction, giving Andy a little more access.  
Andy continued stroking his back as he tenderly wiped him with the wet, warm cloth  
There was no mistaking in the clench that followed, even if Roger didn’t utter a sound, he wasn’t known for his self control around a tennis court for nothing, and Andy watched his fingers splaying against the bedsheets with every wipe, and - fucking hell, yeah – there was some blood on the cloth as well. Not much, just a few drops. But enough, one was too much.  
”Fuck this to hell.” Andy tossed the cloth aside, furious with himself, furious with Roger, turned away from Roger and buried his face in his hands. Idiot, Idiot, Idiot. And he didn’t know exactly which one of them he was calling that.  
He could sense the mattress shifting as Roger moved around him and the next thing he knew there were hands around his waist, and a shaggy head tucked against his shoulder.  
“I’m sorry, don’t be like that, please.”  
Andy allowed himself to relax marginality into Roger’s embrace, and he let his head drop back a bit, staring at the ceiling. “The thought of hurting you while we make love makes me feel queasy. I don’t like it, Rog. I’ll never like it.You should have stopped me before getting so torn up.”  
He could hear Roger inhaling loudly behind him. “Sorry, it…it was really hot, okay? I was aroused beyond belief. It was rough, and intense.” Roger shrugged, flushed and embarrassed. “I liked it.”  
He pressed his lips against Andy’s shoulder. “It did hurt, but it was sort of muffled by the arousal buzz, you know? I didn’t think I’d actually bleed.” He paused. “And you liked being rough, too. I could tell.”  
Andy could feel his face growing hot. “I, Um, didn’t actually top more than a few times before meeting you, and you know, with us it’s usually the other way around and we’re always so careful anyway and this, it was…” He struggled to find the words. “Exhilarating? Liberating? Don’t know.”  
Roger bent forward so he would have Andy’s eyes. He looked at Andy with fascinated curiosity. “Is that your way of telling me you want to top more often?”  
Andy laughed sheepishly, shrugged, then shook his head. “No, I mean – yes. No. Look, I don’t know. Maybe, a bit. But, you know - this is probably why I reacted like that, it was a new sensation.“ He quirked an eyebrow at Roger. “That, and you swearing in three different languages. That was pretty arousing stuff..”  
Roger blushed, and glanced at Andy. “So, you want to do that more often, huh?”  
Andy grinned, but then turned serious. “Not like that, Rog. That was… too much. Maybe I don’t have to be quite as gentle with you as I usually am, but hurting you is NOT a turn on, and it fucks up the after-glow.”  
Roger lowered his eyes and bit his lip. “Yeah. I know. It was a one-off. I swear. I’m not a masochist. I just…I don’t know. I think I needed to let it out of my system.” He leaned his forehead on Andy's shoulder. "A long with a lot of other things.”  
Andy sighed, utterly completely worn out, and ran his fingers through the tousled hair, grasping and massaging the scalp. “Yeah, I know babe.”  
Roger pressed his face against Andy's shoulder and purred his pleasure at the touch. “Hmmm. Did I really fuck up the afterglow?”  
Andy smiled and raked his nails softly through the mane of hair. "A little. Wanna come sleep with me and see if we can make up for that?”  
Roger raised tired eyes at him. "Like you wouldn't believe”  
"Come on,”. He pulled Roger down. “Lets go get some sleep.”  
Roger didn't have to think twice of the offer as he wrapped himself around Andy fully, tucking one thigh in between Andy's, making those little adjustments of knees and elbows.  
Andy brought one hand underneath and around Roger's body to rest on his lower back, while the other one drifted against Roger's shoulder, tracing the sinewy lines of muscle. They kissed lazily for several moments, tenderly touching and caressing, until eventually Roger heaved a great sigh, scooted even closer, and closed his eyes, lying his head on Andy's chest.  
"Andy?"  
"Yeah."  
"Think we can arrange for me to spend the night here??"  
Andy raised a sleepy eyebrow. "Can't. It's your rule. No sleepovers during tournaments."  
"Mirka can cover up."  
Andy opened his eyes fully now. "For you, maybe. I got Connors in the adjoined room, and Bob and Mike on the same floor. This afternoon getaway would already be costly, I don't even know how we're going to explain THAT. We've been gone for hours."  
There was nothing but a miserable silence from Roger's end, followed by a little nod of the head and further tightening of his arms around Andy.  
Andy looked up in a silent thanks to God, glad Roger was listening to reason. He sure as hell wouldn't be able to kick the man out of his bed at night, no matter at what price. He rubbed Roger's neck. "Lets just sleep, kay? Figure out everything else afterwards?"  
"Yeah, okay...can you just do that until I fall asleep, I'm just..." He moved restlessly against Andy, hissing slightly. "A little on edge right now."  
Andy clenched his teeth. "Starting to feel it, huh?"  
"Yeah..." Roger whispered. "A little." He pressed his lips against Andy's chest. "It's okay though, as long as I'm properly distracted.." He sighed softly as Andy twined his fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. "Like that."  
Andy sighed. What's done is done. "Not stopping, then."  
"Good..."

Andy didn't fall asleep till long after Roger had drifted off, watching the dark head on his chest rising and falling with each breath, and complementing the evil things he wanted to say to Tony Roche, the fucking bastard, once he sees him.


	3. Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set between Australia and Dubai 09.

"Tell me you didn't"

"I fucked up, okay? "

"No, because I know I didn't hear you correctly, Roger. I'm going to rewind the last few minutes, and this conversation never happened."

"We'll make something up."

"What could we *possibly* make up?"

"I just - I didn't think, alright?"

"You actually sent an SMS to doping control, citing your whereabouts as my apartment for tonight?"

"Um, it's where I'd be?"

"Fuck, Roger!"

"Not tonight, obviously."

"They'll figure it out."

"They won't come, I've just been tested, don't be hysterical."

"Rog. You idiot. They don't have to walk in on me giving you a blow-job to realize that you listing my HOME as they place you'd be at 11 PM means something."

"I was going to get a blow job?"

"Eloquent use of the past tense there, my friend."

"Jerk."

"Good idea. Off. Alone."

"Maybe I'll just tell them I came to give you forehand pointers, or something"

"What, how to shank them a meter wide and then get the challenge wrong?"

"*****"

"Hi. Rog."

"Shut up, Andy."

"Look, I'm sorry. I..."

"I'm seriously debating whether I should just hang up the phone, so how about you shut up now."

"That was a pretty condescending remark about the forehand."

"I was kidding, dammit! Trying to make up some possible excuse. You however, were dead serious."

"You know I wasn't, come on."

"Nope, you just said it to hurt me."

"Yeah. Yes I did. Ahhh. I'm sorry. I was pissed and - that kind of banter used to slide right off you."

"Just in case you missed the fucking sob-feast the other day, I'm not exactly winning right now."

"Rog."

"Look, I'm just going to stay here tonight. Go to bed early."

"You listed my place as your whereabouts, you have to come now."

"I'll SMS to change, call it a mistake or something."

"Don't do this."

"Watch me as I'm doing it. Go to bed Andy. G'Night."

*Slam*

"Ro -oh. Shit. Holy fucking hell."

*slam*


	4. Pizza and Beer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to "Fight"

"Andy! Wha-"  
"Get out of the way, dope." Andy said, balancing two pizza trays, a bottle of coke and a six pack. "if the coke falls down we won't be able to drink it for like- an hour."  
"Jesus. Here, let me…ah."  
"No, take the six pack"  
"You brought BEER?" Roger laughs, because he feels like a Frat boy or something he's seen in American movies, but was never quite something he did.  
"We'll need something to get all that Pizza down."

Inside his hotel room, Roger carefully lowered the beer to the floor and watched Andy as he placed the Pizza trays on the table. "What are you doing here?"  
"Drove." Andy says, as he lifted up the lid of the tray just a bit, to check out the Pizza, and then turned around.  
"Drove?"  
"Drove and got Pizza." Andy explained, removing his jacket, as if it wasn't clear. He looked at Roger, who was standing in front of him, barefoot, sweats and a white t-shirt. "I thought you were going to sleep."  
"So you came to wake me up with Pizza?"  
"I came to say sorry." He spoke plainly, the way he often did. Andy wasn't one to beat around the bush.

Roger sighed, then rubbed at his face. The sight of Andy at his door, holding two pizza trays and beer, was enough to get the anger out of system. "Not just your fault. I was acting pissy."  
"Yeah."  
Roger lowered his head. "I know… I know I'm a bad company nowadays, I'm…" He shook his head and shrugged. "Sorry, really."

He was engulfed in Andy's bear hug less then a second later, as Andy crossed the room in a flash. Andy was nice and warm, and Roger shivered, hugging back. It's been a while since they've seen each other, and he was so glad Andy swallowed his pride and came, as he probably wouldn't have."  
"You're not dressed properly, why are your hands so cold?"  
"Hmm. I was out in the balcony."  
"In that weather?!"  
"t's fine. I had a blanket. Wanted to think."  
"About us?"  
Roger shook his head. "Indirectly…just tennis and stuff."  
Andy snorted, and pulled back to look at him. "Tennis and stuff?"  
Roger sighed. "Please, I don't want to talk about it… it won't do any good."  
"The final?"  
Roger nodded. "I've rehashed that already, with you, with everyone. Mirka is still going through all the notes I got, telling me the gist of it. I just hope one day I could actually read it all."  
"You haven't read the fan mail?"  
Roger shook his head. "No. It's… it's just making me feel worse, all that love and- and sympathy. They're great, I mean – what did I ever do to have people who care that much about me in the world? Honestly, I just can't read that now. This girl sent me a poem, in French. I read it, it was- really nice."  
"Was it good?"  
"Yeah. I hope she's doing something with all that talent."  
Andy sighed, and pressed his lips against Roger's cheek. It's been two weeks, and Roger was no where near the stage of getting over the final, the fifth set, or what happened afterwards. He didn't really talk about it much, and didn't even seem extremely upset – to those who didn't know him well, anyway. He was just down on himself, moody and temperamental, and he confessed to Andy over the phone he's not sleeping well at all.  
Andy decided not to push, he wanted them to have a good relaxing evening, he just hoped it would help bring him out of his dark mood.

"I hate to ask, but what did you do about the doping control?"  
"I just SMSed back, changed it back to my apartment. If anyone asks, we'll just say you found my wallet and I needed to get it back. As 11 PM was the time I listed, I had to inform them about the change."  
Andy nodded, it was a good excuse as any.  
"Okay. You want to eat?"  
"Yeah. The Pizza smells great. ,Wanna go outside?"  
"Are you crazy?"  
"We'll take the Pizza, the beer. The blanket. There's this huge sofa and a balcony, you don't get wet."  
"Yeah, okay. But if my balls freeze off, I'm blaming you."

So out they were, the balcony of Roger's hotel room was huge. And featured a nice comforter you could sleep on, and a good size warm blanket. And Roger had a radiator out, hooked by a long cable. "Where the hell did you get that?"  
Roger smirked. "I got it delivered; the hotel manager promised to looked the other way when I told them I swear I wouldn't burn the room."  
"How much did you have to tip him?"  
"Yeah, there was some tip involved, yeah."  
"Nice. I'm going to have toasty toes now" Andy got under the blanket, and took his shoes off, propping his legs up in front of the radiator.  
Roger grinned at him, Andy and his excited energy made him feel a thousand times better. He got underneath the blanket with him, and spread the pizza out on top of the blanket, not worried about crumbs.  
"What's on the Pizza?" He said, opening one tray.  
"Double cheese, olives and peppers for you, Pepperoni and mushrooms for me."  
"Yum. But we can't eat all that."  
"Sure we can, I can forget about my new diet for a night. Here, take a slice."  
"Oh Jesus. Pierre is going to rip my head off. Smells great. Hmmm. God. So good."  
"Here, beer."  
"Ah, maybe I'll just have coke…"  
"Cock? Later."  
"Ha, ha. Funny, Rod-dick."  
"Christ. My adolescent humor is rubbing off on you. Ah-um. Don't say what I think you're going to say. Come on, drink with me. It's the good kind of beer."  
"Yes, thanks for not buying the cheap, disgusting kind of beer. Give it here."  
Andy drank, then Roger drank, and Andy watched him drink, head titled a bit back, adam's apple bobbing with each gulp, and swallowed hard. The man was nothing if not graceful in anything he did. Okay, he had some sauce on his cheek right now, but still. He wiped it off and put the finger in his mouth. "Ou, It's hot."  
Roger grinned. "Baby." He put the beer down, grabbed Andy's head and kissed him, deeply. Andy's tongue was burning, but he didn't really care. He groaned into the kiss, letting Roger dictate. A sweep of Roger's beer-soaked tongue around his mouth, and the burning lessened. In his mouth, that is. He could feel himself growing hard, and pulled back, blinking his lips. "Eat up, Roger."  
Roger's eyes glittered, he smiled mischievously. "Eat what?"  
Andy rolled his eyes and elbowed him. "Come on, I'm hungry. Don't get me worked up now."  
Roger complied, pulled back and helped himself to more of the Pizza, moving to lean his head against Andy's shoulder, staring outside to the view. Andy watched the dark head against his shoulder, and let out a content sigh, drinking some more of his beer. "So, why are we here instead of in front of the TV, watching some football?"  
"You're talking about American football, right?" Roger's mouth was full of his third slice.  
"Yeah." Andy helped himself to another slice, as well.  
"That's why. Move your legs a little." He put his legs on top of Andy's, positioning for a better place in front of the radiator and stretched, arching his back into a curve, yawning. "Go-d. I enjoy just sitting here looking at the city. We spend too much time of our free watching TV anyway, either tennis or just sports – I grow a little tired of it – if you're not enjoying yourself, we can go back inside."  
I'd enjoy anything with you. Andy moved his hand to Roger's leg. "Later, maybe. I'm good. How's your back?"  
Roger made a face. "Work in progress. I still feel my serve up the T after… I don't know, a set and a half, two sets. Three is hard." He lowered his head. "So frustrating." He looked at Andy, biting his lip. "There's something I haven't told you."  
Andy frowned. "What?"  
"I'm probably going to pull out of Dubai… and Davis cup."  
Andy sighed, his feelings about it were mixed. "Can't you re-asses closer to Davis cup?"  
"Pierre doesn't think it's a good idea, and I- I can't disagree. I can play one match, maybe two – but three best of five in three days? I don't know how it's going hold up." He sighed. "I'm not releasing it yet, so you can't tell Patrick, I haven't told Stani yet, either." He took another chug out of his beer. "He's going to be so pissed. I promised him, and now we're doomed, you'll kill us, and the Swiss media will kill me." The second beer was gone, and he reach out for another, corking it open on the side of the the coffee table. Andy's debated whether to stop him, but decided against it. Roger could get drunk once in 5 years, plus he was right. The US WAS going to kill Switzerland now. Wawrinka was a good player, and he posed a risk – but fast HC wasn't his specialty at all. He slung a hand around the Swiss's shoulders. "You could come cheering for me, then."  
Roger rolled his eyes, smiling. "That would shake things up. I might have to apply for asylum in the US, I definitely wouldn't be able to go back to Switzerland."  
"So, no 'I love Andy Roddick and the USA' Tshirt? Damn.'"  
"Nice coming out place you lined up for us, Alabama? Geez." His eyes twinkled, bright from the drinking and cold weather. "  
Andy smiled, but the smile was bitterness-stung. They weren't coming out anytime soon, even though they were slowly widening the circle of people who were 'in the know'.

Roger noticed the edge on that smile. "I probably won't show up for the tie…I can play against you, but watching you while you're playing Stan… it would be too hard, whatever I do, someone would end up hurt."  
Andy nodded. "Yeah, I wouldn't want you there, either. Not on the Swiss team bench, anyway. Not unless you're playing. Plus, it would be too cruel for the crowd, I'm not deluding myself thinking the event was sold out in 3 minutes just because of us."  
He moved to lean fully against the head of the side back-rest of the couch, putting the Pizza and beer aside, he was full. "Hey, Come here, I'm cold."  
Roger moved to lean against Andy's chest, pulling the blanket to cover the two of them, turning the radiator up. "  
Andy wrapped both hands around Roger from behind, crossing them on his stomach, underneath his shirt. He toyed with the hairs on Roger's stomach. Roger turned his head. "You're staying here tonight?"  
"Ah-hmm.That's the plan"  
"Good." He titled his head and they kissed softly. Breathes growing deeper. Andy sucked on his tongue a little, and Roger giggled. "My tongue feels heavy."  
"God, you're such a lightweight."  
"Shut up, I'm not drunk. " He moved in on the kiss, deepening it, but didn't try to move to control like he usually did, he let Andy's tongue caress over his, and tease his lips. He moaned, small sounds that drove Andy insane. Unceremoniously, Andy slide his hand under Roger's sweatpants, and cupped him. "Oh."  
Roger hardened almost instantly in his hand. He rubbed a little underneath the head and Roger arched backwards. "Ahh."  
"Like?"  
"What's not to like. Oh." He rocked against Andy's hand, which was just holding him.  
"Hey. Don't- Slow down, and don't thrust. There's no hurry.'"  
"Ahh, I don't think I can, actually."  
"Come on."  
"No, really – it's. Been a while since…since I came."  
Andy titled his head to look at him. Roger's eyes were closed, a small frown between his brows. "Okay…"  
He frowned. "There was Australia. And-well, we haven't seen each other for a couple of weeks… but- you didn't jerk off for two weeks?"  
Roger shook his head, and Andy could see him flushing, and not just due to the wine. "No. I-". He swallowed. "I just wasn't… " He seemed unable to express his emotions into words, just arching a little bit into the touch. "I didn't really-want to. Can we-um, save that discussion for later? Because, I'm sort of in the mood now."  
Andy chuckled softly. "Are you now."  
"God, I've been semi-hard since you've walked in with the Pizza. Delivery guy fantasies, you see."  
Andy laughed, and squeezed gently. Nibbling on Roger's ear. "And you don't want me to beat around the bush, no pun intended?"  
"Ohhh. God. No, not really."  
The fingers rubbed at the head."Do you want me to fuck you, or just this.?"  
Roger just groaned, put his own hand over Andy's and squeezed it hard, grinding backwards and forwards. He was dripping, too close to coming, and thrusting into Andy's hand fully now. Andy thought he was going to lose his mind from how badly that turned him on. But he was still in his jeans and was going to get so fucking chaffed.  
"Get off, let me take off the jeans."  
"Oh. Oh Oh, God. God." Roger arched his back nimbly, leaning his head against Andy's shoulder blade, not letting go of his grip on Andy's hand but allowing Andy to use his other hand to unbutton himself.  
"Fuck." Andy wondered why he bothered putting his best jeans on. Roughly, he yanked his jeans down, just bellow his hips, and yanked Roger's sweats down as well.  
"Hey, take your hand off, let me. I promise it would be good."  
Roger groaned, and removed his hand from Andy's, relinquishing on the need to set up the rhythm himself, realizing Andy knows what he likes. Instead he dug his fingers in Andy's hairy thigh, holding on tight. Andy buried his face against Roger's neck and hair and started stroking hard, using pre-come as lube, because nope, he wasn't going back into the room to find something. No fancy tricks or teasing, just hard, steady movements up and down. Because sometimes that's all you wanted, a firm hand on your dick, working through and toward the inevitable ending.  
Roger's fingers splayed and his mouth fell open as Andy increased pace, every breath a moan now. He thrust back against Andy, adding yet another dimension of sensation. Andy cried out at that, his freed dick caught against the crack of Roger's ass. "Oh, Yeah. Rogeryeah."  
But it was too late for Andy to get anywhere close to coming, Roger was too worked up, too blitzed on pleasure, he was already there. "Gonna-Ohhhh-ahyeapleaaasse-AH.."  
Roger thrust forward, his body rigid, and came, massively, his mouth falling completely open.  
Andy continued to milk him through his orgasm, not letting go, easing the grip just a bit. Roger shuddered with every stroke now, breaths coming out in wailing little gasps, his body wrecked by those sweet uncontrollable twitches Andy just loved. When the sounds began to reflect more discomfort than pleasure, Andy eased his grip, letting him slip from his sticky fingers. To his surprise, Roger then lost his sense of balance completely, falling forward like a rag doll, breathing hard and wet.  
"Wo-oh…" Andy quickly looped his arms around him, breaking the fall, clutching Roger tightly and gathering him back to him. "Rog? Babe?"  
Roger didn't reply, his eyes were closed, and Andy wasn't sure whether he heard him at all. He bit his lip, torn between the desire to laugh and some degree of shock. Orgasm blackout. Fucking hell. He didn't recall *that* ever happening before.  
He pulled the blanket over them, thinking this could have been really cozy if it wasn't for his dick crying out for some freakin' attention here. He titled Roger's head toward him, kissing him gently, waiting for him to come-to.

It didn't take long, after a couple of seconds, Roger's eyes fluttered open, and he returned the kiss, if a bit confusedly. "Andy? What happened?"  
"Ah, I think you sort of blacked out. Here, drink some of the coke."  
Roger gratefully took the bottle, gulping some of it down.  
"Did that ever happen to you before? I don't recall it did."  
"No-not really, not like that. Was I out for a long time?"  
"Just a couple of seconds, could have been the alcohol. Three beers in 10 minutes is a little more than what you're used to."  
"Yeah, maybe." He looked at Andy and flushed. Andy was amazed he could still make him flush, after all that time. "Maybe it was you. That was-um, pretty mind blowing."  
Andy gave a half-smirk. "Yeah, it's my amazing sexual prowess in giving hand-jobs. Um, no. Don't think so. You just haven't had any for a while."  
Roger lowered the bottle of coke, and turned around to straddle Andy, looking down, then back up, and there was a naughty little twinkle in his eyes. Andy loved that twinkle, it almost always meant great and wonderful things.

Andy was leaking pre-come all over the sofa, leaving a wet patch on it, as well as on Roger's thigh, and it hadn't escaped Roger's attention.  
"You've been really patient." Roger moved to kiss Andy's neck. "I bet that was really *hard* on you." Andy's Aftershave was minty, and Roger could still smell it on him, even after sweat and sex, pizza and beer.  
"Ah-ha." Andy twined his fingers in Roger's hair, letting Roger suck on his throat. "t was fucking agony."  
They kissed, long and lazy and appreciative. "Got requests?"  
"Suck me?"  
"There was a mention of fucking, earlier."  
"Um. I don't know. We could - but can you really get into it now.?" Roger needed to be turned on to get fucked, Andy knew.  
"Ah, um. Yeah." Roger chuckled, a little embarrassed. "Maybe not RIGHT now."  
"Old man."  
Roger smiled wryly. "That's probably right. Didn't they tell you, there are new balls in town."  
Andy snorted. "Baby balls, who gives a shit. I'll have you know that there's only one set of balls I'm interested in."  
Roger laughed at that, and reached down to cup him, grinning all the way. "You can be such a sweetheart sometimes." No one, in the whole entire world, knew how to cheer him up the way Andy Roddick did.  
"Roger, you have your hand on my dick, can we save the mushy stuff to other moments. Maybe you could do something fucking productive with that mouth of yours?"  
Roger was still laughing, then moved backwards. He shot Andy a daring look, then bent down, and swallowed Andy whole, still chuckling. "Fuckyeah." Andy gasped as Roger went down all the way, deep throating him in a way Andy never quite managed to master.  
Andy's hands clasped Roger's shoulder, fingers splaying whenever Roger used his tongue on the upswing, to swipe over the leaking clit. "God you're good at this, so fucking good at this."  
Roger moved to just sucking on the head now, hard, using short jabs of his tongue to flick across the head.  
"Yeah-yeahcomeon, yeah."  
Roger took Andy's hand and put it on his head, giving him permission to set the pace, but Andy didn't take him up on his offer, instead he ran his fingers through Roger's hair roughly, unable to control them properly in midst of all that pleasure, pulling on his hair occasionally.  
The sensation, however, always a huge turn on for Roger, who loved having his hair played in, caused him to groan hard around Andy's dick. The vibrations made Andy jump and shiver, and not just because Roger stole all the blanket. "Yeah. That-nmmgh..."  
He gasped, fighting the desire to thrust up. "Ohfuck..ah, ah. Roger. I'm-yeah"  
Sensing Andy was close, Roger reached down to cup and squeeze his balls, circling the rim just a bit. Andy yelled, and Roger lifted his head to look at him, he was spread out on the coach, drenched in sweat, his neck arched back against the pillow. He looked like sex on toast, and Roger felt like eating.  
He moved to his dick again, this time not going down all the way, just sucking the head really hard, with just a hint of teeth. Andy let out a voice that was part scream, part a strangled gasp, and this time, did put his hand on Roger's head, pushing him down. Roger did that twirl around the rim again, and Andy came, thrusting into Roger's mouth. Roger was right there for it, swallowing against his dick, gentling Andy through the aftermath. Eventually, he felt Andy's arms around him, yanking him up. "Hey, come here, you'll freeze on me."  
Roger didn't even notice the blanket fell off, his body felt so hot, so caught up he was in the intensity of it all. He dragged himself up and collapsed on top of Andy, tucking his head over his shoulder, feeling as exhausted as Andy looked. Andy kissed Roger's face and neck, and then buried his face against him. "Hey, baby. Let me get to the blanket."  
Roger made a none-committed sound and shifted so Andy could toe the blanket up to them. He covered both of them, and then upped the temperature on the radiator. He curled both legs around Roger, and closed his eyes with a content and satisfied sigh, tracing Roger's spine with his fingers. "Rog?"  
"Um?"  
"We probably shouldn't sleep here."  
"I'm warm enough and-I don't really want to move. Are you cold?"  
"No, not really… but- it can't be good for your back."  
"It's good for my soul."  
"Okay. Um. Here, yeah- just tuck your legs properly. Yeah. Good."  
Roger kissed Andy's shoulder, then buried his face on it. "It's getting too hard, you know."  
"What is?"  
"Being apart, it's too hard."  
Andy sighed. "Roger. Don't."  
"I'm serious, it hurts, and it's just getting harder with time."   
"I know." Andy gulped. "For me too, but our schedules are as similar as they can possibly be. You're not going to add smaller events anymore than I'm going to play the entire clay season. It's going to affect our tennis, and look suspicious as hell. We got the American HardCourt season coming up, we'll find some time to be together then.  
"I wish I didn't have to miss Dubai and DC, you're doing both."  
"Probably just as well. We're not going to sleep in the same bed and then go play Davis cup, it would just mess with us, you know it would. And I find the idea of being caught in bed with you in Dubai, of all places, a little scary. Next year is a good year to spend the off season *elsewhere*."  
"Maybe." More alert now than he was a moment ago, he leaned his head on Andy's shoulder and sighed. "I think It's going to be a catastrophe this year."  
"What, Dubai? Why?"  
"Do you see Ram and Erlich getting a visa?"  
"Erlich is still injured, I think Ram is playing with someone else – but that's an issue? I thought it was solved last year."  
"Yeah, I don't think so. I think the UAE are not going to issue the visas, not to Andy Ram, and not to… gosh, I forgot her name, the other Israeli player, the girl."  
"Shahar Peer."  
"Yeah. I heard she also applied but haven't got an answer yet."  
"Oh Fucking hell. That's going to get ugly."  
"Yeah."  
"Thank God for your bad back, I guess"  
"Yip Yip Hurray. I rather deal with the politics."  
"Not that kind of politics you don't. Are you serious they're not getting the visas? That's so wrong." He nudged Roger. "You'll be expected to say something."  
Roger groaned. "Why?"  
"President of the Player council, world number…"  
"2#, fucking 2#. Why can't Rafa get stuck with it?"  
"Right. That would be the day. 'I know nothing about it, no?'." He lifted his head. "Come on, Roger. I know you, and you don't think it's right either."  
"Of course I don't!! I think it's awful, but I feel like an ungrateful SOB standing up and say so, considering what that tournament and that country did to accommodate me over the past few years."  
"To their benefits, too, Rog."  
"Give me some credit. I'm not that naïve. But…it's the only place where I can just focus on my game. No fans, no paparazzi. I get to be left alone and no one ever knows what I'm doing. I'm used to it-I…I'd really hate to chance locations. I don't care about the penthouse I just want a quiet place to practice, and the weather is perfect."  
"Rog, I get it, trust me – I do. Just- get ready to be criticized if you say nothing, that's all."  
"I don't know what to do. You'll pull out if they won't get the visa? You're defending champion."  
"Maybe. I think it's the right thing to do, I'd hate to play in a place that mixes sport and politics like that. I mean, it's not like the US hasn't done stuff half the fucking world disagrees with, I wouldn't want to be kept out of events because of that."  
"Andy, I don't disagree."  
"Yeah. I know.. Just- What a mess."  
Roger fell quiet for a second. "Pull out then, if they won't get the Visa and that's how you feel-pull out."  
Andy glanced down at him, smirking slightly. "And do what instead?"  
Roger's arms tightened around him. "This. For a whole week."  
Andy squeezed his shoulder, rubbing softly. "You didn't…ever since Australia, you didn't call as much as I expected."  
Roger sighed. "You had tournaments to play, I didn't expect you to come and hold my hand."  
"No-but that doesn't mean I'm not there every night for you to talk to if you need me"  
"Do you want the truth?"  
"Always."  
"It makes me feel like an insensitive idiot to moan to you about how I've lost Grand Slam number 14."  
"If I feel like you're being an insensitive idiot, I'll be sure to tell you. I seem to recall I've done that once or twice before. But I'd like to get the chance. You can't keep it all so bottled up inside, Roger. You just can't. I think you realize that now."  
"I didn't want…"  
"Didn't want what? Roger?"  
"I didn't want you to see how upset I was, I was embarrassed, okay? I wish I could cope with losing as gracefully as you."  
"Roger, I cried and got hammered after every slam final I lost to you. And after I got hammered, I cried some more. Broke some stuff, too. Then threw up. You know that."  
"Only you didn't do that on center court." His eyes were bright and shinning.  
"Let it go."  
"I can't. I just keep reliving that, standing there and feeling all choked up till I can't breath. I keep thinking that I could have stopped it, but I really couldn't."  
"This isn't worth you beating yourself up like that, not weeks after the match. You're torturing youself for nothing. Yeah, it surprised some people, but it doesn't alter in anyway people's perception of you. Trust me, I've been around the guys."  
Roger just sighed into Andy's shoulder, burrowing deeper. "It alters my perception of me. I always thought I'd be okay when I start losing more, I guess I just didn't count on losing all those tight finals to Rafa. I thought, you know, I may start to lose before the finals. But to be good enough to get there, and then lose? It hurts so much."  
"I know." He kissed the side of Roger's head. "Don't get upset, but I think maybe… you should go talk to someone. It's beyond me, Roger. I can only draw from my own personal experiences and feelings, and most of those experiences are…"  
"Related to me."  
"Yeah, I don't think that I should…I don't know, doesn't sound particularly healthy or productive to me. And I don't think my coping mechanism isn't going to work for you, necessarily."  
Roger turned his head to meet Andy's eyes. "I've thought of it, I actually got a few names. So I've got two lists, one says coach and one says shrink, and I don't like to look at either."  
Andy laughed softly. "Give it a try.You have nothing to lose. But… This-this conversation that we're having, what's going on here right now, that's for me, not the shrink. Do you hear?"  
Roger nodded and whispered. "Yeah. I do."  
Their lips caressed and touched softly, not really a kiss, more like breathing in and on each other, their legs twining beneath the thick blanket, arch of feet fitting into the curve of an ankle, long toes sliding over a calve. They watched each other through hooded eyes for a while, enjoying the proximity of their bodies underneath the blanket in the confined space of the sofa. Slowly Andy's eyes began to droop, and Roger's soon followed. Andy pulled the blanket over their heads, and pulled Roger even closer. Roger burrowed his face in Andy's neck, sighed and allowed himself to fall drift off. He knew he'd have a decent night sleep for the first time in weeks


	5. Same Old Patterns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after Wimbledon finals 2009.

Roger paused before entering the locker-room and leaned his head against the door, his eyes were welling up from the sheer relief of it all for the first time today. He shook his head against it. Don't cry now, Federer, you don't get to, not today.

He took a deep, cleansing breath, and opened the door when he was in control of his emotions, his hand shaky against the knob in a way it hasn't all match long.

Andy's head was bowed low. So low all Roger could see was the back of his sweaty head, and his breaths were harsh and chocked in the silence of the locker room. Roger approached tentatively.

Andy held up his hand. "Don't." He sniffed very loudly, and there was no mistaking the tears in the voice. "I know you mean well, Rog. And I appreciate it, I really do, but I don't want to wake up tomorrow, hangover and all, and realize tonight has cost me more than just Wimbledon."

Andy looked up, and Roger was struck by the shuttered expression. "Go celebrate with your team, I bet they have something planned."

"You're my team too. "Roger rubbed at his forehead. "And I just want to go to sleep, actually. I'm so tired, I don't want a big party, I just…I don't know what to do."

"Yeah, I don't think they're asking you. Look, I'm just going to get drunk with John. Really drunk, maybe I'll go crash your party afterwards, I haven't decided yet."

Roger took another step toward him. "I didn't know about the jacket, I would never have it prepared in advance or something…"

"Rog. I know. Sue Barker is a fucking idiot. What else is new. Just, go. I played the match of my life, you weren't so hot out there, I thought I had a decent chance. No, scrape that, I had more than a decent chance, but you did your thing, like you always do. You won. Congratu-fucking-lations. " The voice was dripping of pain and bitterness.

Roger winced, and after a second, so did Andy. He swallowed hard. "Yeah, that's what I meant by losing more than just Wimbledon. Roger. Please. I love you, but if you come any closer and try to comfort me, I'll punch you, because this fucking HURTS and I don't…" He wiped at his face. " Just go, fucking go, go, go." He slammed the runner up trophy against the wall. It clanked loudly as it bounced against the floor, and the sound seemed to have resonated in the locker-room a thousand times over. He took a shuddering breath and moved his hand over his face, his voice scratchy. "I can't take it, Go."

Roger, stricken, stepped backwards. "Okay, okay."

He felt lost. They've never played a five setter before, and it was the first time since we've gotten together that he beat Andy in a Slam final. Semis, Quarters – those didn't matter, it wasn't a Slam final, Andy's first since forever. What was he suppose to do? Just leave Andy sitting there? What kind of a jerk did that make him, or was he already a jerk, just due to winning?

Sometimes the realities of their relationship were too painful to endure.

Andy glanced up at him. Seeing him still standing there, so much emotions in his eyes, just made him madder. "You're not listening, right? I'm not having this conversation, I'm on edge, I'll say things I'll regret and I'd have no, no fucking way to take them back, do you get it?"

Roger sighed and nodded. "Okay. Come back when you're ready, then."

Andy 's lips were set in a hard line as he studied his shoes. "Won't be tonight, or tomorrow Rog, I seriously need time."

Roger puffed his cheeks and blew out air, fighting the temptation to ask how much time. "I know," He whispered. "If you change your mind, tell me, whenever, I'm there."

He couldn't leave though, his legs felt glued to the spot. He blinked on tears, of tiredness, of elation, of incredible sympathy for the man in front of him. "I feel like a total shit going."

Andy's tone was clipped. "Fucking get over it. This isn't your choice Rog. Out. It's the Loser's prerogative to have the locker-room to himself, and you're in serious breach of that. I can't be with you right now without feeling anger and frustration, and I hate it, so it's best you go, because every second you're standing here is making us both feel way worse. You won, you deserve to be happy, I lost – I deserve to feel miserable without that pitying look in your eyes and worrying whether I'm raining on your parade. "

Roger , helplessly, wiped his face and turned for the door. His hand on the door knob, he said. "You were brilliant out there." He opened the door and walked out without waiting for a response.

Inside, Andy leaned his head against the wall as he was fighting against the lump in his throat, letting the tears roll now. "I know. So were you. Congrats for fifteen, Rog. "


	6. Just A Day In The Off-Season

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Off season, 2009.

“Oh. Yeah. Just like that.” Andy groaned underneath him, and Roger let out a long exhale at the tightness around his cock as he sank down. “This okay?”  
“Yeah. Yeah. Oh fuck, yeah..”  
Andy was sprawled face down against the cushy mattress in Roger’s place in Switzerland, hands gripping the pillow on which he had suffocated his cries, even though no one was ever going to hear them in Roger's extremely private house. This position wasn't new, of course, but it's been a while.

Face to face worked out best for them, once they figured how to arrange all those long limbs in that position, after they got used to it, they just liked it better. Watching each other faces while fucking, easy access to each other erogenous zones. All in all, it made the sex considerably hotter.

However, for some things, like when Roger was topping and wanted to tease and take his time, this is how he liked it, with Andy sprawled face down underneath him, totally at his mercy. And it wasn't like Andy disapproved, but today he really wished Roger would get on with it.  
“Rog, come on.”  
Roger lowered his head to nip on Andy’s earlobe as he sheathed himself deeper into him.“Hmmm, there’s no rush.”  
Andy trembled. “S-says you.” He hissed. “The man who already came tonight.”  
Roger leaned his forehead against Andy’s shoulder blades, suppressing his chuckle. “That was your entire fault; I didn’t tell you to get me off.”   
“You didn’t ask me, you just came on your own accord.”  
Roger bit his shoulder blade. “Was I supposed to send a memo? You had your tongue up my ass, there is something known as natural consequences.”  
“Awfuck. Yeah, if you're a teenager. I was rimming you for like 30 seconds, and you came quicker than a fucking motor-train. God-yeah.” Andy panted hard. “Now you have all the Satima in the world, that's not fair..”  
Roger grinned as he moved his head to nuzzle Andy's cheek. “Advantage Federer, then.”  
It had really got away from him earlier, his orgasm. Catching him almost unaware under Andy’s enthusiastic ministrations like he was 15 years old. He was so going to pay for this for months to come.   
However, coming earlier in the evening has presented an opportunity to have his way with Andy without worrying about coming too soon. It had definitely given him more control over the proceedings now, more control than Andy, anyway, who was as tight as a racquet string, teetering on the edge for a good part of the past hour.

Andy clenched around him, and Roger stifled on a moan and involuntary sped up a bit. Hell, Andy knew how to get to him.  
Andy gasped. “That didn’t sound controlled to me. D-deuce.” Andy gasped. “Now fuck me. Come on.”  
When Roger opened his eyes, the world took a second to focus. “Yeah," He choked out, trying to sound composed. "Maybe in a little while...”  
He kissed Andy’s warm shoulder and then moved a little bit forward to suckle on his neck, pushing in just enough to reach, but not thrusting, definitely not thrusting. Just – pausing there while he licked and nibbled.   
He could taste the slightly bitter tang of Andy’s aftershave as he suckled against his pulse point, and bit down rather harder than he meant when Andy clenched around him again.   
Andy panted, craving a harder touch. God, he was harder than a rock, and the friction he got from the mattress just wasn’t enough to get him off. Roger was definitely in one of his moods tonight.  
“Roger. Come on. Don’t fucking tease. Ah-ah. Please, ah.” He wiggled his hips, pressing down, trying to get Roger to move. His hands, however, were still grasping the pillow tightly; trying to jerk off was useless when Roger was in one of his moods.

Roger’s hand stilled his hips, pressing him down hard against the mattress. “Brat.” He admonished playfully, pulling an inch out, and then going back an inch in. “Slow it down.”  
Andy let out a choked sound of indignation. “If you go any slower I’d lose my mind.”   
Roger smirked and sprawled himself fully against Andy and allowed his weight to rest against the American’s sweaty back, and positioned his legs so that his feet were directly placed in the arches of Andy’s feet, a sensation he found incredibly hot.  
“Mmm.” He moaned.“You smell nice.” He buried his face into the curve of Andy’s neck. “God, I’ve missed you,” He whispered in Andy’s ear, sighing as he nuzzled his back. “Four weeks on the tour without you feels like a year.”   
Andy gasped and titled his head, allowing Roger to reach the crook of his neck.  
“You’re-oh-just sex deprived.”  
Roger exhaled on a laugh as he moved his hips in slow, delicate circles. “That too.”  
Andy’s feet twitched again and again every time Roger clipped his prostate, and he shuddered violently, feeling the blood pooling in his balls “Ah.” He bucked against Roger, clenching. “Fuck. Roger. Too slow.”  
Roger bit the back of Andy’s neck. “Yeah, that’s the intention – Oh. Oh.” He closed his eyes against it, because suddenly this was feeling too good, the familiar tingle sensation in his balls, and he clamped down on it, not willing to finish things just yet and slowed things down even more. He squeezed his hand between Andy and the mattress, palming his lower belly, finger digging into Andy’s belly-button.  
“Oh-fuck.” Andy sobbed with the pain-pleasure of it, twitching and shaking. “Ro-Roger. Fuckpleasepleaseplease”  
Roger slid his hand further, stopping inches away from his target, and then begun the smallest of rhythm, slow and measured strokes inside Andy, using nothing but the power of his legs and lower torso. Andy shuddered and shook again and tried to push up into Roger’s hand.  
“No. Rog. Please. Ah-please.” Andy was aware his voice had a needy, desperate quality now, but he was past the point of caring. “Please. Pleasefuckme. Come on, I can’t take it anymore, really.” He shuddered again, feeling the pre-come leaking conspicuously as he tried to grind helplessly against the mattress. He couldn’t come just from this, he had to have more.   
Roger froze over him, because there was a tone in Andy’s voice which wasn’t there before. “Hey, you serious?”  
Andy blinked his lips and tried to control his pants. He felt his face growing red. “Yeah. I-just. Not that I’m not enjoying myself here, but I-Really really really need to come and I mean right fucking now.”  
Roger lowered his forehead against the strong back under him, berating himself for missing the point when it became not so much fun for Andy. “Shit. Okay, okay. Sorry. I’ve got you…Come here.” He pulled back half way out - putting a little distance between his body and Andy’s and then pulled Andy’s hips toward him, so that Andy could lean on his arms rather than flat on his stomach like before – and then shoved back in all the way to his balls, not gentle anymore.   
Andy trembled and shook, groaning audibly. “Oh fuck fuck yes-this.”  
Roger shivered, nothing, nothing was more arousing than seeing Andy so undone.  
He angled a hand around him-no lube or lotion needed, considering how wet Andy was - and stroked along with the thrusts.

Andy was groaning loudly now, bucking against Roger wildly, and the sounds shot straight to Roger’s dick. He pulled all the way out, mindless of Andy’s swear and moan of frustration and flipped him over, pulling both legs around his hips, leaned forward, and thrust back in. “Oh My God. Oh-My god. Andy. Oh.”  
“Rog-er.” Andy arched and writhed, hands scrambling for purchase and found Roger’s hair. “Fucking-hellyes-Ah. Just like that.”.”   
For Roger, there was no way to do something as coordinated as kissing as he fucked Andy into the mattress, stroking him at the same time. But somehow, as Andy tugged on his hair, he found his mouth hovering over the American’s and simply leaned downed and moaned into Andy’s mouth, not holding back anymore as he slammed into him. “Ah. Jesus-fuck. So-much.” He rotated his hips inside Andy and then pulled out and drove in again, in punishing thrusts, grinding into Andy’s prostate.  
Andy’s convoluted, blitzed on pleasure, hips rising from the mattress to meet Roger’s, rocking against him to pull him even deeper. “Ah-ah-ah. Again. Yesss.”   
He didn’t wait for Roger though, instead he placed his heels on Roger’s ass and pressed down hard, eliciting a broken scream from the Swiss as found himself deep in Andy, his hand tightened further on Andy’s dick, pumping Andy hard and long.  
“Oh-Oh,” Andy nearly sobbed with it. “Ro-Rog. You close? I can’t-nugh…Ahfuckyessss.” His control snapped, and Andy exploded, shaking uncontrollably all the way through a long orgasm, spraying come everywhere, Roger’s hand, his own stomach. “Oh. Oh. Oh.” He shivered, convoluting, thrusting his lips forward as Roger, panting harshly, erratically pumped him through the last throws of orgasm.  
Roger moaned brokenly as Andy clenched around him, extremely close. “Oh god, so hot. Yeah. Oh God yess.” He slammed into Andy again, and Andy whimpered and grabbed Roger’s thigh, fingers tightening into the flesh, shaking all over from the over-stimulation.

“And-Andy?” Roger choked out as he pausing mid-thrust, sweaty hair plastered to his forehead, thighs shaking from the exertion of maintaining his control. “Too much? Should I – should I stop?”  
Andy gasped softly, eyes shut. “Um.Yeah. No, don’t know. Just-“ His hand tightened on Roger’s thigh. “A second, ‘kay?”   
Roger bit his lip. “Yeah,” He ducked his head and kissed Andy slowly on the neck, then the lips, and then rested his forehead against Andy's chest, trying to control his breathing, and Andy could sense, if not see or hear, the Swiss’s lips uttering an oath.. "Just, you know. Tell me when. I’m going to be, ohgod, right here, until, um..” He whimpered, fingers twitching against the mattress, he was impossibly close.   
Andy snuffed on a laugh. "Dickhead." He shifted a bit to ease the pressure, then grabbed Roger’s hips with his hands, pulling him further in with a moan. “T’s okay. Come on. Just fuck me.”  
“You sure?” Andy could hear the naked pleasepleaseplease in his voice.  
“Yeah. Come on babe.”  
That was all the confirmation Roger needed. “Ah-oh fu-Yeah.Yeah.” He thrust in, hard and erratic, and Andy's legs twitched wildly and he banged his head against the pillow, because ohgodtoomuch, and he cried out Roger's name hoarsely.  
Roger panted heavily, shook and came with a massive sob-like groan as pleasure ripped through him, undoing him. “Ah-ah-ahGod." He flopped against Andy's chest as the last waves subsided. "God." He moved his hands against Andy's shoulders and neck, nuzzling him blindly. "You'reunfuckingbelievable."   
Andy chuckled weakly "Yeah. That." He half moaned, half whimpered, shuddering. "Rog. Ca-can yo…"  
"Yeahyeah, sorry."

Roger lifted himself, pulling out very slowly, body sluggish in the aftermath of orgasm, and kissed Andy on the curve of the shoulder and the crook of the neck as Andy lied sprawled backwards on the mattress, trying to regulate his breathing. "Fucking hell, that was intense." Andy swore. He reached out and placed a heavy hand atop Roger's head, pulling him to his chest. "Come here. Be…still for a second."  
Roger chuckled breathless, and collapsed at Andy's side. "Alright." He laughed. "I'm still."  
Andy rolled his eyes and dug his fingers into Roger's hair lazily, tugging and pulling, relishing on Roger's soft purr as Andy toyed with the soft curls at the back of his head.   
"Oh-this."  
Andy grinned, his eyes closed. "You're so easy."  
"Yeah." Roger said lazily, enjoying the shivers running up and down his spine. "Now keep going." With a sigh he curled around Andy, resting his palm on Andy's flat stomach. Andy jumped a bit, his stomach hallowing. Roger glanced down. "How the hell can you still be hard?"  
Andy snorted. "You rammed my prostate for 5 minutes after I've already come, what did you expect? No, Leave it." He grabbed Roger's hand as Roger reached down. "I'm like hypersensitive right now."  
Roger paused as he watched Andy's dick unfurling further, erection not flagging one damn bit. Underneath his palm, the muscles of Andy's stomach were still contracting. "I don't think your dick wants to be left alone."  
Andy chuckled tensely. "My dick doesn't know what he wants."  
"Hey." Roger's voice was soft, but the fingers on Andy's stomach were firm as they caressed him. "I think I overdid it a bit today with the teasing and edging and whatsnot. I didn't quite read you right."  
Andy turned on his side toward Roger, his look serious. "No, I fucking love it when you do that. I'm just...don't know why I have such a low tolerance today. I'm not sure there's a reason. Maybe it's because we haven't been together all month, it was hard to resist. I don't know. It was fucking torture, yeah, but – the really good kind. Don't feel like you've crossed some invisible line because you haven't. You know I'd tell you if you had."  
"You better." Roger leaned forward to kiss Andy, officially sealing the matter. Andy sighed into Roger's mouth and turned completely on his side, pulling Roger close as they kissed. They clung together, their kisses turning more aggressive, and Andy moaned as Roger's hairy stomach rubbed against his erection. "Ah-jesus. Can I reconsider?"   
"Yeah." Roger slid his arms around Andy's waist, resting them against the small of his back, watching him for a moment. "Tell me what you want."  
Andy smiled. "Is that like a multiple answers quiz?"  
"No. It's like an open question." Roger shifted to nuzzle at Andy's jaw a bit. "What you want, we'll do it."  
Andy blinked several times at that, because – while he never felt like he couldn't ask Roger for something in bed – except during a tournament, of course – it was different, being specifically invited to do that like that. How pathetic it was, really, that the first image in his end was center court at Wimbledon, but not just center court, but a very specific center court, with the patches of dry grass from two weeks of intense playing, and a trophy – his, of course, on the grass just a few feet away from them, while he's fucking Roger into the grass. And yeah, that image made him gasp and get even harder, and he would bet on Roger's being able to feel it.  
He ducked his head a little, embarrassed.  
"What?" Roger was smirking. "Tell me. It got to be good if you're blushing."  
Andy shook his head slightly. "No, um. It's not…I'm not sure this fantasy is even really about sex, so…"  
Roger was not clued in. "For a fantasy not about sex it's definitely making you hard."  
"There's sex in there, but I'm not sure that's the point" At Roger's confused expression he sighed. "It's more like a tennis fantasy with sex in it, and I'm not quite sure which one is making me hard. Drop it, okay?"  
He could feel Roger's eyes on him, weighting him, and his tone was careful. "Yeah. Sure. Sorry 'bout that. I didn't mean to push."  
"T's okay. That one not really…"Andy laughed a bit, because he had another idea in mind. "I do have this thing, and – we're never fucking ever gonna do it, I mean – its pure fantasy, so-you know. Still wanna hear it?"  
Roger grinned. "I thought we were talking about things we can actually do right now. But no, this is good. I want to hear. It's more of a – general thing, right?"  
"Yeah. So, We're kinda-um-in the locker-room."  
Roger choked a surprised laugh onto Andy's shoulder, pressing closer against him. "Oh God. Don't even…which locker-room?"  
Andy swallowed, because he actually did know which locker-room. "Wimbledon's. And… it's early in the tournament, like – third round, lot of the guys are still around."  
Roger closed his eyes, and Andy could see he was seeing it, that it was getting to him, and it made him even hotter. "We're in the showers, the left cubical, the one you like using and no one else ever try to go there when you're around."  
"Ah-huh." There was a catch in Roger's voice, his breaths coming out faster now.  
"You're-oh." Andy panted, trying not to thrust against Roger, because he was turning himself on. "You're on your knees in front of me, with your mouth on my dick-oh, while…there are people in the locker-room, and we-we need to be really quiet."  
Roger gasped a little, taking in Andy's glazed eyes. "God. You-" He pulled backwards, his throat was dry. "You-keep talking, okay?"  
Andy shivered. "And what will you do?"  
"Whatever-you tell me to do, whatever- is in your fantasy."  
Roger then pushed Andy backwards with an easy hand, and sank down the length of his body, taking him in his mouth in one go. Andy was already hard as a rock, and he let out a choked sob at the sensation. "Oh-Oh-Oh fuck. Rog-oh God."  
Roger did not move or touch him, he was just holding him there, and Andy could feel him breathing through his nose, fluttering against his lower stomach.   
The realization that Roger was just waiting for Andy to guide him through this blow-job made him beyond hard. "Okay-oh.Okay, Um. So, you're sucking me. Oh-Oh, slow! Slow at first, because if you-oh fuck- if you go too hard I'll make voices and people would hear. It's-ahyeah- rain delay, so, it's really crowded."  
Roger let Andy's dick slip out of his mouth. "Um, there's a roof now, and we're both play on center court, I don't think it would affect us, we'd play through a rain delay."  
Andy groaned and stared at Roger. "You want fucking accuracy? It's my fantasy, go back to what you were doing before."   
Roger grinned at his irritation, and swallowed Andy again.  
"Ohfuck- yeah, um. So-God, you're sucking me, and we have the water running hard to muffle the voices, and-you're using your hand-Ohohfuck. Ro-Roger, I'm not literal enough to do that when you- OhGod." Andy panted, fighting the urge to thrust as Roger thumbed at his balls, before realizing that hey, it's his fantasy, and Roger would quit if he didn't like it. "And-you're taking my hand, and putting it on your head, to let me know-ah, that it's okay if fuck your mouth."  
Roger paused for just a second, then reached out for Andy's hand, and placed it directly on his head. Andy let out a long guttural groan and sank his fingers deep into Roger's hair, moving his hips up into that welcoming heat, speeding up a bit when Roger, without being directed now, dug his fingers in the muscles of his ass, rubbing and massaging.   
"Oh yes. Oh-Oh. Yesyesfuck." Andy felt all the blood in his body sinking right to his dick, pressure building, but Roger let his mouth go slack around his dick, and Andy realized he was expected to keep on talking. "Jesus don't stop. Just… GodGod. You're using your tongue, on my-on my..Oh God, on the top, really-ah-fucking hard-Oh-Oh-Oh. Yesrightthere-yeah, and you're-you-you're putting you're fingers in me, and, and I'm trying-ah-to be quiet. I'm biting on my hand-fuck-to keep from fucking screaming, so they wouldn't hear, because there's a lot of voices outside, but Llorda got his awful music on loud, and you're..Godfucking-ohhhh.."  
Roger groaned loudly as he reached out to Andy's ass, moving his fingers inside the still-moist cleft, circling a bit, and then delving in. Andy moved backwards against his hand, and then into his mouth, reduced to babble more than coherent words now.   
Roger too was unable to control himself anymore, he was hardening just listening to Andy, and really-it didn't make sense, because he already came so much tonight, but he was hard, and God – it actually hurt to get hard again, but he still did, fuck – he still did.

He used his other hand to tug on himself, hard and relentless, as Andy was pumping his hips faster, fucking his mouth, and Roger didn't have another hand to steady him, but he didn't care, because it was so hot, so hot, Andy was right down sobbing with it, not speaking anymore, and he felt the muscles of Andy's ass tightening and clenching around his fingers as Andy came with a long moan.  
He swallowed around him as fast as he could, then allowed Andy's dick to drop out of his mouth as Andy's involuntary post-orgasm shakes became too difficult to control. He leaned his forehead against Andy's thigh, remaining crouched there above him, pulling hard on himself with one hand – the other was still tucked between Andy and the mattress – and he was trying to get there, but no- no orgasm for him, small wonder, cause he was actually chaffed pretty good now, and touching himself was painful , but being so hard with no relief wasn't feeling that great, either.  
He allowed his hand to drop after a few desperate and pained tugs, and remained there, helplessly panting against Andy's leg, because he was still so hard, but then Andy was saying something and pushed him back on the bed. After a moment of two, he knocked his hand back and replaced it with his own. And thank god Andy's hand was lubed, somehow, thankfuckinggod, because his own, foolishly, was not. Andy's hand was cool and smooth on his dick and that felt really good, and eased the painful friction a bit.  
"Agh-Andy.."  
"Shhh." Andy rubbed him very softly, just two fingers loosely wrapped his dick, up and down. "Rog. Let me. You're gonna hurt yourself like that."  
"AhOh…" Roger sobbed in a mixture of pain and lust. "Don't. T's not going to be enough."  
"Babe, trust me. Let me make you feel good. Just-no, don't push up. Real easy. Here we go."  
Andy leaned over Roger, suckling softly on his nipples as he continued his very loose motion, circling the head with his thumb, using his other hand to cup Roger's balls, and then Roger was coming in a slow dribble. It actually hurt, and He groaned loudly at the bite of it, pushed Andy's hand right away and curled on his side, shaking, because Godfuckinghell.  
Andy wiped his hand on the bed, then pressed behind Roger, circling him in his arms tightly. "You okay?"  
"God." Roger panted as he wiped at his face. "Yeah." He turned around toward Andy. "That was…God this was hot, this was so…" He moved in to kiss Andy, slow and appreciative, and Andy could taste himself on Roger's shaky lips. "That's okay, hot's a good adjective."  
Roger chuckled slightly, then gasped with a frown. "Move, I gotta go to the bathroom."  
Andy sighed, stretched on his back and watched as Roger stumbled from the bed toward the bathroom, appreciating the tight ass for a moment, before rolling off the bed to join him.

 

Fifteen minutes later, they were both submerged in the steaming water of the hot tub, looking over the incredible scenery out of the window of Roger's penthouse.  
Roger hummed a nameless tune while Andy, sated and sleepy, leaned his head against Roger's shoulder and closed his eyes. Roger had a decent Baritone voice when he sang, more than decent, actually. The humming was also nice.  
Roger watched the long lines of the arch of Andy's throat and the slightly parted lips for a couple of moments, then – when he realized Andy's breath is turning more regular, he planted a kiss on the side of his head. "Hey," He whispered in his ear. "Don't fall asleep in here, wait till we get to bed."  
Andy mumbled. "Not asleep, resting my eyes while listening to you."  
Roger chuckled softly, and tightened his grip around Andy's waist. "Right, you're practically snoring. Come on, I can't exactly carry you to bed.'"  
Andy opened his eyes, not without effort, and yawned. "Are you calling me fat, cause I've been really good with my diet."  
Roger laughed. "I'm sure Larry would approve. Hey, If you'd like, I can haul you over my shoulder or something."  
Andy laughed softly, and tilted his head toward Roger. "So you could ravish me on the bed?"  
Roger looked at him, puzzled. "Ravish?"  
Sometimes Andy would forget English wasn't Roger's mother tongue. "Um, Ravish. In that context – I guess, have really wild sex with."  
"Oh." Roger complemented. "I kinda think we're done for today."  
Both men smiled, and then Andy sat up a little straighter, turning toward Roger. "Say, what about going skiing tomorrow?"  
Roger frowned. "Well, I don't know about that. What if you get hurt or something?" He avoided skiing himself in recent years, as much as he loved it, tennis was more important. The thought of going skiing with Andy, who never even put on real skates in his life, was a bit intimidating.  
"Oh, what's the big deal? You put your legs in the skates and go, right?"  
"Yeah, into the side of a mountain, maybe!" Roger laughed, aghast, even though he realized Andy was teasing. "So not taking you skiing, forget it."  
Andy turned toward Roger, frowning. "I'm serious, here."  
Roger fell silent, and then sighed. "Look, I'm not really-you want to learn, I'd teach you, alright? I'd love to do that, but you've never done that before and- it's a dangerous sport. I'm not being stubborn for no reason."  
Andy pouted, and Roger rolled his eyes and let out a groan of surrender. "Fine. Fine. But we're gonna take it slow, okay? No… mountains or anything, beginners stuff."  
Andy's bit down on a smile. "I'm actually not looking for a career-ending injury here. I'm just looking for an outdoor exercise that isn't tennis and isn't sex, we spent two days in bed. Time to get out and do something different."   
Roger twirled a finger in Andy's short hair. "Bored of me already?"  
Andy laughed. "Idiot." He dropped his forehead against Roger's shoulder. "Bed? I actually am tired."  
"Yeah, sure." Roger kissed him softly, and then touched his cheek. "And? There'… I don't want to you to feel like there are things you can't talk to me about."  
Andy pulled back a bit. "Woah. Where did that come from?"  
Roger sighed. "We're going to have to talk about Wimbledon at some point." At Andy's guarded expression, he added. "That's the tennis slash sex fantasy you were talking about, right?"  
Andy quirked an eyebrow. "And if it is?"  
Roger bit his lip. "Come on. Don't you think that…" He wiped at his face agitatedly. "That we should talk about it? We never, ever have. Not even after you came back, which took you long enough."  
Andy blinked. "Are you mad at me for that, for staying away?"  
Roger sighed. "No…I don't know. God knows – I understand, it's just… a month? A month?"  
Andy was taken aback at the emotion behind the words, puffed his cheeks, then smiled a little. "Well. That’s sounds like *you* might have some unresolved issues, you never said anything, either." He tlted his head. "Anything you wanna talk about, Rog?"  
Roger bit his cheek. "I was…" He moved a soapy hand across his face. "Hell, Andy. I was just - happy that you came back. Everything else was… not important, but that was… that was a pretty crappy month, even though I won."  
Andy shrugged. "Well, wasn't a great month for me either, and I lost."  
Suddenly, the heat of the water was getting suffocating for Roger, and he stood up, dazed.   
"Lets have this discussion out of the tub, okay? I-Idon't have air." Casually, he climbed out of the tub.  
The floor was wet, and Roger, distracted, lost his footing on the slippery surface. Andy could only watch in horror as Roger's feet slide under him. He fell backwards with a surprised yelp, hitting his head on the edge of the tub as he came down.


	7. No Calm In the Eye Of The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Direct Sequel to chapter 5

For a moment, all Andy could hear is white noise, static, as he watched Roger's feet sliding on the wet marble with an almost slow-motion swoosh, his head hit edge of the tub with a sickening thud as he went free-falling backwards, nothing to hold on to but air, nothing to stop the momentum of the fall.

"Roger! Fuckfuckfuckfuck!" Andy lept out of the tub, and bent down next to Roger on the floor and cradled his face. Roger was unconscious, his body limp on the floor. "Roger! Rog!" He shook his shoulder hysterically. "Come on, wake up, don't do this Rog!!"

Slowly, Roger stirred, his face immediately crunching with pain as he let out a long, shaky moan.  
Andy thought he was going to pass out with relief as Roger moved. "Oh, thankyoufuckinggod."

Roger rolled on his side, clutching the back of his head with his hands, crying out in pain, his breaths coming out in short gasps.

Andy cradled his face with his hands, his mind was blank with worry. "Oh fuck, oh fuck but you've landed hard. Hey. Rog, Ro-shit."

Roger didn't respond, he groaned and gasped, trying to fight the blearing pain. Waves of pain were radiating to his neck and face and shoulder. He tried to speak, but it came out more like a half sob.   
Andy, hysterical, leaned over him helplessly, touching his face and shoulders. "Rog. God, do-oh fuck. Ice. I'll go get ice."

He sprinted toward the refrigerator and rummaged through the fridge. He dug out a pack of ice, and wrapped it in a towel. He ran back, and then knelt next to Roger, and gently pried his fingers away from his head. "Le-let me. Come on, it would help."

Roger's eyes were closed shut, and Andy could see his lower lip was bleeding where he apparently bit into it as he fell. His breath tore out of his chest in whimpery, pained gasps. "Oh G-od. 't *hurts.*"  
"Yeah. Shh.. I know - Just let me-get your head off the floor.Yeah-like that. Careful, careful, here we go" Andy slowly lifted Roger's head so he could lean against Andy's thigh, and then placed the frozen bag gently against the back of his head. Roger hissed and trembled, but Andy kept the frozen bag in place, reaching out to grip Roger's shoulder "Let-let it work. It would the swelling down. Fucking hell Rog." He caressed his face, tracing the bleeding lower lip with his hand. "What a fall."

Roger didn't reply, he was chewing on his lower lip, and Andy could see he was trying to work through the pain, taking deep breaths, but there was no mistaking the pain etched on his face, or the rigidness of his body. His hand was a claw around Andy's knee.  
Andy caressed Roger's face as he held the bag against his head, letting the welcoming cooling affect of the ice make a difference. They were both naked on the cold floor, it was winter outside, it was Switzerland, and if Andy was freezing his ass off, he couldn't imagine how Roger was feeling, he was shivering like crazy already. He wanted to get him off the floor..  
"Rog. Can you…um, can you sit? Do you think it's something we can do?"  
A pause, then Roger gasped. "Yeah. Just- help me up, okay?"  
Andy wrapped one arm around his shoulder, supported his neck and pulled him slowly to a seated position. Half way there, Roger groaned. "God.My hea's gonna 'xplode."  
He rolled to his side, freed himself loose from Andy's grip, turned his face away, and – leaning one hand against the floor and far away as possible from where they were both sitting, threw up on the floor, overcome with nausea.   
"Shit."  
"God. Sorry, sorry." Roger coughed, then cried out as the sensation made his head pound even worse. He wiped the bile with the back of his hand, and Andy caught him by the shoulders and pulled him against him as Roger looked like he's about to topple over.  
"It's okay, it's okay. Shh, don't worry about it, okay- fuckingshit. Okay. Lets just get- lets get you off the floor, okay? It's cold, put a hand around my neck, come on."  
Roger shook his head, his eyes closed against the pain and the dizziness. "No-just give me a minute, I can manage."  
"The hell you can." Andy snapped, because throwing up after a head trauma really wasn't a good sign, in fact it was pretty bad, and he was getting anxious now, but no use telling Roger that. His voice softened. "Let me help you, okay? Don't be stubborn."   
Roger nodded blankly, and allowed himself to go slack in Andy's arms .Andy rose and simply grabbed Roger underneath his armpits and hauled him up to his feet. Roger leaned against Andy's chest, groaning as he was pulled to an upright position. The movement made his head hurt more, and he could feel his legs caving from under him. He gripped Andy's arms hard. "Andy…"  
Andy's hands were firm and solid, supporting most of his weight. "I know, babe. I know. Okay… hand around my neck. Yeah, like this, see? Easy now."   
With a grunt of effort he picked Roger up and carried him out of the room and into the bedroom.

He placed Roger on the bed carefully, covered him with a blanket, and sat next to him, at a loss of what to do.  
Roger buried his face in the pillow, moaning into it, and Andy could see his toes flexing and pointing as he so obviously fought the pain.  
"The ice, Rog?"  
Roger nodded into the pillow, and Andy hurried back to retrieve it, placing it gently against the back of Roger's head. Roger groaned, and then grabbed Andy's hand, squeezing it hard. He did not let go of it. "Oh, God." His fingers tightened around Andy's hand, squeezing so hard it was getting painful for Andy.  
Andy bit his lip. "Is it getting better at all?"  
Roger paused, then choked out. "A little, but it's like my head been split to two." He moved restlessly against the bed, and voice came out as a half sob. "It really hurts."   
Andy leaned down to kiss his shoulder blade. "Rog. Babe, listen to me. We have to take you to the hospital, that was one hell of a blow to the head and you're not… you were unconscious, for a few moments, and you threw up. That's, that's not great, and you're really suffering. I don't think it's something that an ice pack on the head and a couple of advils would cure."  
"But you can't take me," Roger choked into the pillow. "You're not really here."  
Andy smiled. "You haven't hit your head quite that hard, Rog, I actually am here."  
Then he frowned, though he understood what Roger was trying to say, that Andy wasn't suppose to be there with him in Switzerland, the confused way in which Roger had phrased it was alarming to him, he didn't know if to chalk it to the pain and the way English sometime got away from Roger, or that something more serious was wrong.   
He kept his voice steady and even, and rubbed Roger's back. "We'll figure something out later. Now, can you tell me what the emergency number is?"   
He was just happy Roger was conscious and alert enough to ask, because dumbdumbdumb how could he not know what the emergency numbers in Switzerland are?  
"144. And?..." Roger turned around slowly, grimacing, and Andy was relieved that he sounded focused, though his pain and anxiousness were clear. "You're going to come with me, right?"   
Andy bit his lip. Mirka was out of town, with her parents, at least two hours drive away. Pierre was in France, Luthi on vacation. This was off season, it was their time alone, uninterrupted, for a change.   
Roger had come out to Pierre anc Luthi at the end-of-year championship, and it made everything so much easier on the both of them, they were finally able to get some time alone.  
It also meant that there was no one else to go with Roger to the hospital but him, and how the heck were they going to explain that?  
Andy moved his hand across Roger's cheek and looked at him with a serious expression. "If you want me to." He rubbed at his face. "I mean, if you want me to just call the Ambulance I can do that." He swallowed hard. "As much as I hate to even suggest it, you'd actually receive medical care without me there and all, and people would ask less questions. I…" At the stricken expression on Roger's face, he stopped at once and leaned his forehead against Roger's shoulder and said plainly. "I'm sorry for even suggesting that." He lifted his head. "I'm not going anywhere, okay?"  
Roger's eyes met his and just nodded, then buried his face into the pillow again, gritting his teeth.

Andy simply flipped the phone on, and called an Ambulance. There was an intake of breath on the other side of the phone when he said who he was calling the ambulance for.   
It was a sacrifice of Roger's privacy, but that would also mean the hospital would probably be alerted, what's the point of being a multi-millioner and the best athlete your country had ever produced if you go to the hospital and no one knows about it?

He flipped his cell off, pulled out a pair of trainers and pants from the closet, sat next to Roger on the bed and quickly dressed him, he wasn't going to let him ride the ambulance naked.  
Roger lay there limply, his eyes closed, hands clutching his head, and did not cooperate at all when Andy struggled to get the pants up.  
Andy shook his shoulder. "Hey, are you conscious?" Oh fucking hell, he should have called the ambulance first thing, what was he thinking?  
Roger nodded weakly, and mumbled something in Swiss German.  
"Rog?! Fucking talk, I want words, in English, that make sense."  
Roger blinked his lips. "Leave me alone, I want to sleep."  
"Fuck." Andy caressed Roger's face. "Come on, babe. No sleeping till the Ambulance comes, Rog. Talk to me." This was NOT good, he was less coherent as time went by.  
Roger's eyes fluttered opened. "Nggh. Wha'?"  
Andy leaned over him, holding his face in his hands. "Eyes open, for me. Okay?" He kissed Swiss's forehead. "You're gonna be fine." He swallowed. "Just fine."

Then, there was a knock on the door.

_________________________________________________________________________

 

God, he felt helpless, riding in that ambulance with Roger. Roger was only semi-unconsciousness by that stage, the medics did not speak English to him, of course, and the little Swiss-German Andy knew at this stage wasn't anywhere near enough to follow what they were saying to each other and to Roger.   
The medics recognized Roger right away, that was clear from their reactions, he wasn't sure whether they knew who HE was, and that was probably a good thing.

In the states, he knew how to yell and make demands; he knew how things there worked.  
In Switzerland, he didn't even know which hospital they were going to. He should have really called Mirka, but he couldn't call her from the Ambulance, it would have to wait, and he couldn't go and hold Roger's hand like he wanted to do.   
He was going crazy, fucking crazy.

He looked toward the bus driver, who did understand English "Which hospital we're going to?"  
"University Hospital"   
"Better be a fucking good one."  
The bus driver looked back at him with a reassuring smile. "Best in Basel, wouldn't take Roger Federer anywhere else. What happened to him?"  
Andy sighed, he decided that the practice story, although it had some holes in it, was the only thing that could work. "We finished practice, he went to shower in his apartment and slipped coming out, I guess, and I found him on the floor." He looked at Roger as the Ambulance jumped on a curve and Roger winced, biting into his lip. He fought the need to touch him and looked toward the medics. "Can't you give him something for his head?"  
The medic taking Roger's vitals looked at Andy. "With a head injury, we'd really rather wait."  
Andy rubbed his face. "Yeah, I guess." He looked at Roger, then outside. It was raining, and he just hoped that wherever the hospital is, it wasn't far away.

__________________________________________________________

"Mirka."  
"Andy? Hi. What is it?"  
"Yeah. Look, don't freak, um. I'm in the hospital. Roger has had an accident."  
"What?! What happened?"  
Andy rubbed his forehead and lowered his voice. He was outside the hospital, huddled in his coat. "He slipped coming out of the Jacuzzi and hit his head on the edge of the tub."  
"What?!"  
"Mirk, He was… He passed out, then he woke up, but he was in a lot of pain. I called an Ambulance."  
"Andy, is he alright?"  
"Um, I don't know I don't know. They took him to get a CT. They're going to keep him over-night for observation. He was a little out of it. Look, you need to get here, I'm… it would look strange if no one from his family or team is here. It's probably going to be all over the fucking news and…"  
"I'm coming right away. Are you in University hospital?"  
"Yeah."  
"What did you tell people about what you're doing there?"  
"Only the ambulance driver asked, I said we were having an off season practice session."  
Mirka frowned. "Well, that's not going to make a hell of a lot of sense, you never practice together."  
"Simple works best, unless you've got a fucking better story?"  
Mirka sighed. "No, not really. Andy, calm down."  
Andy drew a long and shuddering breath. "Just – fucking get here, okay? I don't have a fucking clue about his insurance or whatever."  
Mirka, in spite of her concern, smiled. "Andy, no one is going to worry that he's not going to pay the bill. Look, it will take me a couple of hours, but I'm on my way."  
Andy grimaced, then said shortly. "I really… didn't want to call you."  
Mirka was silent for a moment. "I know." She bit her lip."Andy?"  
"Yeah?"  
"I love Roger, you know I'd do anything for him, but…you two might want to start…"  
Andy paused. "Start what?"  
Mirka sighed. "Never mind. We can talk about it later."  
"No, start what?"'  
He could hear the hesitation on the other line. "Mirka."  
"I'm not with my parents."  
It took a moment for her words to register. "O-kay...."  
"I'm with someone, Andy." Her voice was weak.  
Andy blinked.. "With someone? You mean like - a man?"  
He could hear her sighing on the other side of the phone. "I tried to tell Roger, I couldn't do it, so you get to hear it first."   
Andy's mouth was dry. "I'm stunned." He croaked. "Are you mental? What… does this man know?"  
She chuckled softly. "I didn't have to tell him anything."  
Andy blinked. "So he's either someone who hasn't watched a tennis match in his life and doesn't know who you are and apparently living on another planet, or you've told him you're not actually in a relationship, and in that case Mir, So help you Go…"  
She cut on Andy's exclaim. "Neither! I wouldn't tell anyone that without discussing it with Roger first, what do you think I am?!"  
Andy rubbed his forehead. "Not quite sure at the moment, can you please explain, because I had a really long fucking day, and maybe I'm not following you."  
"I didn't tell him, He have known already. Roger told him himself. It's Severin, Andy."  
Andy sat down on a nearby bench, and closed his eyes. "Severin." He swallowed. "Wow. That's…" He laughed tersely. "That's…Is this… recent?"  
"Not too long. After… After Roger told him. He was… very upset with me."  
"I know that. He was pretty upset with Roger, too."  
"Well," Mirka smiled a bit "He then told me that had he known, maybe he wouldn't have suffered quietly for so long."  
Andy burst out laughing "Wow." He shook his head. "I say that a lot. Fucking hell Mir… I… am happy for you, I guess." He sighed. "You gotta tell Roger. I won't do it for you."  
"And you two gotta come out, Andy."  
Andy sighed, shivering slightly. "That's an ultimatum? Cause I gotta tell you, it wasn't on the immediate plans."  
Mirka shook her head. "Oh Andy. I don't want to be the one outing him, or you, for that matter. For ten years I did my best to make sure this won't happen. But I have had it with the secrecy, and the lies, and the pretending. I want a life, maybe with Severin, I don't know. I do know that I can't do that as long as people think me and Roger are together. I won't let people look at me as the villain, can you imagine how people would look at me and Sevrerin in Switzerland?! He won't have it, and neither would I."  
Andy could feel his temples starting to throb. "You and Roger could stage a break up." He knew he was grasping at straws.  
"Are you mad?' She shrieked. "And then what? Two weeks later I'll start going out with Severin?! Everyone would think I had cheated on Roger!. No, no, enough with the secrecy and the lies. Don't you want a normal life? You were really going to wait Until you retire? That's a long time away, Andy and I don't know about you, but Roger isn't exactly a happy camper when you aren't around, you two are miserable apart."  
Andy rubbed his eyes, he felt like crying. "Okay, Okay. Can you, FUCKING MAYBE not expect me to come out with all the answers, maybe wait till Roger conscious, so he can play a part in that decision? I can't do this right now, I can't."  
Mirka, hearing the desperation in Andy's tone, winced in regret. "Okay, I'm sorry… it's just that…" She sighed, gathering her thoughts. "Okay, lets…I'm sorry, I know my timing stinks, but it can't be that much of a shock to you, that at some point, I'm going to want my life back."  
Andy swallowed. "It isn't…it isn't. It… make sense, to me anyway, I think Roger might have a different perspective. It's just that your timing, Mir, for the announcement? Well, it leaves a lot to be desired."  
"I'm sorry." He could hear the tears in her voice. "I just… there was never a good moment."  
"Well," He said shortly. "It definitely wasn't now, if you know what I mean. Get in here, and we'll talk about it later." Frustrated, he hung up, and fought the urge to smash his cell against the wall. He shook his head, attempting to clear it, and made a decision to worry about Mirka and her... news...later. Much later. Instead, he walked back into the hospital, to check up on Roger.


	8. Doubts Re-visited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Direct sequel to Chapter 6

Andy opened the door to Roger's private room hospital room. Roger was lying on his side in the bed, his eyes closed with a slight frown. Nothing that would betray the last few hours.  
Andy sat next to him, and then, after sending a careful look toward the door, leaned down to kiss his forehead. Roger's eyes opened sleepily. "Hi."  
Andy smiled at him. "Hi there, How's the head? I heard from the nurse it wasn't so great earlier."  
Roger grimaced. "Sore and tender, but they gave me some stuff." He blinked his lips and shook his head slightly. "Wow – I'm really out of it."   
Andy caressed Roger's face with his thumb. "Keep-keep your eyes closed. It's okay."  
He took the ice towel from next to the bed, and placed it gently against the back of Roger's head. "That's better?"  
Roger sighed softly and nodded, and marginally relaxed into the bed. "Yeah. It's good." After a few moments he blinked and mouthed "Sorry."  
Andy frowned "What for?"  
"You wanted to go skiing tomorrow." Roger made an effort to smile. "I don't think we're going now."  
Andy chuckled softly "Yeah. You did well to get out of that one." He then pressed his hand against Roger's cheek, and said seriously. "Don't worry about it. Really. We'll find the time to go some other time. Promise. This off season isn't over yet."  
Roger titled his head, leaning slightly into the touch of Andy's callous fingertips. He then suddenly hissed, wincing.  
"What?"  
"My neck's killing me. I think I've strained it somehow when I landed. Shit."  
Andy started gently fingering the muscles in Roger's neck. "This okay?"  
Roger frowned and nodded, pushing back into Andy's hand, craving a harder touch."Yeah." He blinked his lips, and Andy could tell he was trying to snap out of the affect of whatever pain medication they had given him. "I really want to go home."  
Andy paused, he didn't think it's a smart idea. "They want to keep you for observation overnight. And, It's late, I think it's a good idea for you to stay right where you are. "  
Roger grimaced. "I want to curl up in my own bed and feel sorry for myself there, not here."  
Andy sighed. Roger was not a fan of hospitals, but who was? "Rog. If we go home I'd stay up to check you are breathing like every five minutes. Here they can monitor you." He looked at Roger carefully, trying to assess how awake and alert he was. "Plus, there's another consideration, Mirka isn't here yet and I think we should wait for her to come, so that she can take you home. Otherwise it can look sort of strange."  
Roger stretched slightly and made a face, opening his eyes this time."Why isn't she here yet? Her parents don't live that far away."  
Andy made a quick decision that this was not the time or place to get into it. Mirka's relationship with Luthi and the affect it was going to have on the two of them was going to be hard enough for Roger to deal with, he didn't want to get into that now, and a part of him really wanted to leave it to Mirka to deal with. "Don't really know, I think she got stuck in traffic, but she should be here soon enough."  
Roger looked at him. "You're staying here, right?"  
Andy sighed. "Yeah. Till Mirka gets here." It was pointless to mention now that he's probably going to have to go once Mirka gets there, because why should he stay with Roger Federer once someone from his family had arrived? Their story had more holes in it than Swiss cheese, but the truth was probably so absurd people would never suspect it.   
Roger, however, did not miss the hidden intent behind Andy's words, and scowled. He shifted in bed, and, holding on to Andy's arm, pulled himself to a sitting position, keeping his eyes closed for a moment before opening them. Andy could see he was hoping the world would align right, and then he could see Roger's little exhale of relief when it did. Yet, he frowned.  
"What?" Andy asked softly.   
"Nothing."  
"Rog, come on."   
Roger touched the back of his head tentatively and winced, than replied, irritated. "My head throbbing like you couldn't believe, my entire body is tight and aching after crashing to floor, you can't do anything about that. So, you know, just leave it, Andy. it's only making me feel sorry for myself " He frowned. "What happened, anyway? I only remember the hot-tub, everything afterwards is one big blur."  
Andy sighed. "Pretty much that. We were in the hot-tub, we had this…" He gestured aimlessly with his hand. "We argued, you stepped out the tub pissy and distracted and slid backwards on the wet floor. Head hit first. Against the edge of the tub. The rest of your body soon followed." He swallowed. "It looked pretty bad."   
Roger's eyes searched Andy's face, and Andy immediately regretted mentioning the argument. "What did we fight about?" Roger asked. "As I said, I don't really don't remember."  
Andy rubbed at his face agitatedly. "Yeah- um. Do we have to do this now? It really wasn't that important. Actually I don't know how it ended up as a fight. One minute we were sitting in the water all high on lots of good sex, few minutes afterwards we were discussing some of our ever-persistent issues and you wanted to get away so you climbed out and swoosh…" He got up to pour himself some water from the pitcher, anything to move away from the bed. He felt sick with guilt and irritation.  
With his back to Roger he said. "Look, Rog. I also had a tough night, I really don't want to rehash that now."  
"Is that's what I did?"  
Andy turned around. "What?"  
Roger 's voice was soft. "Climbed out of the tub because I wanted to get away from you?"  
Andy straightened and turned around. "No." He took one step forward. "You said, um, that the hot-tub was getting too stifling, or something, then you got out."  
Roger cocked an eyebrow. "Well, that's not really the same thing."   
Andy sighed. "Yeah. Okay, fine. Its not the same thing. As I said, I don't want to talk about it here, now, or at all, for that matter."  
Roger stared at him, wounded, and clenched his jaw. "Fine. Don't talk to me, you don't have to stay here, you know." He turned to the other side of the bed and promptly pulled the blanket higher. "I just really don't want to fight with you right now, I'm dead tired, alright?"  
Andy paused. He was being way too gruff and taking his anxieties on Roger, who had no clue what was going on. "Roger." He sat back down on the chair next to him, and squeezed his shoulder softly. "Rog. Come on."  
Roger didn't respond to him, his body stiffened to Andy's touch. Andy let out a big sigh, and dropped his head against his arm. "Sorry. I'm being a jerk for no reason, and you deserve to know why. I just… " He sighed again. "I really preferred to wait till we've gotten back to the apartment, but I see it can't wait, and frankly – I can't keep it a secret anymore, it's – it's messing with my mind, 'kay."  
Roger turned at that, but didn't try to sit up again. His eyes searched Andy's face, slightly alarmed."What?"

Andy sighed softly. "I called Mirka, earlier."  
Roger frowned, that's not what he expected to hear. "Yeah okay, I know."  
"She's not stuck in traffic, it's just gonna take her longer to get here"  
"Why? I mean - her parents live like an hour drive away."  
"Yeah" Andy said shortly. "She's not with her parents." He looked straight into Roger's eyes. "She's with a man."  
Roger's eyes opened wide. "What? Like, a *man* man?"  
Andy didn't reply, the question was a rhetoric one, he let Roger process the new information.  
Roger frowned, the shock evident on his face. "What. I-I don't understand. How could she- how could she be dating anyone. I mean – that would expose us. And I know she wouldn't tell anyone-the truth. I *know* her Andy. There's just no way.  
Andy's voice was soothing. "Yeah, she wouldn't. Um, she's just happens to be dating someone who already knows about us"  
Roger's eyes narrowed in disbelief and Andy could see him mentally going through the names. It was a fairly short list. "What? Who?   
Andy hesitated for a moment, then said softly, not really knowing what to expect from Roger in terms of a reaction. "Severin, Rog. Apparently, they've been seeing each other since you've told him."  
The blood drained from Roger's face as he sat up sharply.   
Andy grabbed his arm. "Hey, Woah. Easy. Lean back. " He bit his lip. "Maybe we should really postpone this conversation, you look like crap."  
Roger's eyes were daggers. "Bullshit, you're gonna talk to me now."  
Andy ran his fingers through his hair. "I am talking to you. I don't know much more. She's seeing Luthi, she's had enough with the lies. Hers, ours. She wants it to stop. That's the gist of it, I think the truth is more layered than that."  
Roger swallowed blankly and mumbled. "God. She can't do this." He raised his head, and Andy felt a sting of acute jealousy he hasn't felt for quite some time when he saw the haunted, panicky look on Roger's face. "She…well, she can't." It was as if he was pointing out something Andy has somehow missed. "I need her."  
"Funny." Andy said, and his voice sounded distant and strange to his own ears. "I thought you needed me." He moved away from the bed.  
Roger blinked. "That's not... This has nothing to do with it."  
Andy let out a snort. "Right. Because if you need her around you all the time, then why the heck do you need me for. Other than the sex. The sex is good, right? You like men, and well, I definitely am one. But that's not enough, right? Four years and It's still not enough. She still needs to be around." And God, he didn't mean to land quite this hard, but then again.  
Roger froze, his eyes were big. "Andy. That's… that's not what I meant. And it isn't true." His face twisted. "She's my… my best friend, AND she handles everything that has to do with my career, I trust her with everything, I…don't know how to do it without her."  
The pit in the bottom of Andy's stomach hallowed further. "Well, I really don't want to handle your career, mine is enough, and I know she's your best friend, but I thought I was too, and if you need someone to book you a plane seat to a sponsorship event in China, fine – don't trust me with that, maybe you'll end up in Australia instead, but I kinda hoped I'm your 'go to' guy in everything else. Your FIRST go-to guy. With her around, with you two living together during tournaments, which is basically most of the year, you and I are just playing at a relationship."  
Roger was pale. "Since when do you feel like that?"  
Andy's voice was short. "A while." He sighed. "A long while, maybe."  
Roger's tilted his head to look at him. "The thing is." He played with his fingers. "Some things I can't go to you for."  
Andy sat back down with a frown. "Such as?"  
"Such as. Such as the sick feeling I get in my stomach when I win a Slam, and my reward is to be abandoned by my boyfriend for a month. This is what I go to her with, and I can't go to you, because guess what, you weren't there."  
Andy bit his lip. That again. "What did you expect me to do?" He said roughly. "Wait for you in the locker-room with flowers and champaign after I wash away the sweat of the match I just lost?"  
Roger shook his head. "No. I didn't expect you to be happy that I beat you, I just thought it would take you 4 days, maybe a week, to get over it." At the expression on Andy's face he said. "Not *over it* over it. Over it enough to be in the same house with me. To call me. To talk to me, to tell me you didn't hate me, that it doesn't change everything. Instead you…" He looked away. "You know what you did."  
Andy sighed. "We started talking about that, moments before you decided to introduce your head to the edge of the tub."  
Roger frowned. "I don't remember that."  
Andy smiled wryly. "Apparently, you do. At least your subconscious does."   
He rubbed at his face. "If it's worth anything to you right now, I'm sorry. I should have handled it better than I did. I thought I was used to that- losing to you. I- I didn't see it coming. I didn't expect I'd…" He sighed. "Look, I was afraid I would ruin things between us, if I come back still upset and sad and angry, but maybe I ruined things anyway, maybe we were destined to go down that road. Maybe we never really dealt with it properly. I don't know if there is a right way to deal with what we deal with. It's not – in a normal world, people who- who date each other do not contest a Slam Final."  
Roger sat on the edge of the bed, and his eyes searched Andy's face, stung. "Date each other. Is that what we're doing? Do you- do you really doubt that I love you, or what?"  
Andy paused. "No. I don't. I just-" Fucking hell, it was difficult. "Sometimes. I doubt your ability to look at me as a life-partner. Someone you go home with every day, or at least most days, not just occasionally. I'm looking at your reaction to Mirka finally getting a life, and I guess – there was a part of me that hoped you'd be excited, somehow, about that. What it could maybe mean for us. Instead you're jealous and won't accept it, and – it's making me INSANELY jealous, and it fucking hurts, Rog. It cuts."  
Roger's voice was small. "I was just. Caught off guard. It doesn't mean any of the things you just said."   
Andy sighed. "You really didn't think she's going to want a life at some point? I think she tried to tell you that for a while, you wouldn't… you didn't really want to hear that, you really didn't. She made life easy for you, and she was supportive of us, I'd give her that, but she's a woman, a beautiful woman, and she cares about you very deeply and settled for your companion, even if it was platonic, and all the benefits that came with it. But she was bound to want more now that you spend a lot less time with her. Rog, tell me this isn't coming completely out of left field, here."

Roger didn't reply, and then there was a knock on the door, and Mirka stepped in uncertainly.   
Andy thought she looked relieved to see Roger out of bed, and she smiled and said a few words in Swiss-German, but the stream of words died when she saw the expressions on Roger's and Andy's faces. She glanced toward Andy, and he shrugged testily. "Reap what you sow, I'm a bad liar."  
The smile curdled on her face like sour milk. "Since when?" And Andy just looked away at that, because well, she wasn't wrong.  
Roger shot toward her something in Swiss German, and Andy didn't get it, but it sounded crude. And she flushed, then frowned. And replied something back, crossing her arms across her waist, with her lower lip set, and Roger slid off bed, barefoot, and still wearing his hospital gown. His mouth twitched and Andy could see he was covering up what must have been a pretty massive headache."What, Severin didn't come with you?"

Mirka sighed. "He's outside, and I don't like your tone of voice."  
Roger looked away. "Right. You've…" He shook his head, unable to find the words. Andy thought he could just see and feel the tension just ebbing from his body, and decided to interfere. "Look, um. I know I said I think you should spend the night here but, um, I'm reconsidering here. This can't turn into a shouting match in here. I may not understand Swiss German all that well, but all the people outside do."  
Roger growled. "Fine, this is what I wanted in the first place."  
He looked around. "I see my clothes, but where are my shoes?"  
Andy blinked. "I didn't bring any." He frowned. "I dressed you. But – you were in bed, the medics took you on a gurney, I didn't think about taking shoes" At the expression on Roger's face, he snapped. "Yeah, I know. I'm sure *she* would have thought about it. I was too busy panicking when you went unconscious. Sorry, I'll worry about the fucking shoes in the next time." He moved his hand across his face, and just wanted to get out of there.   
Mirka looked from one man to the other. "The car is up front, we could drive back to the apartment to get shoes for you, but it would take at least an hour. If they can open up the hospital store for us, I'm sure there are some…" She frowned and said something in Swiss German. And Roger sighed and translated for Andy. "Flip-flops. Fine, but don't bother. I'll go myself and ask the head nurse, and then I'll go handle my own discharge."  
Andy stopped him with a hand to his arm. "Don't be ridicules. She'll go and ask the nurse, and you'll get dressed, instead of wandering outside this hospital room with a gown and bare feet, so it can end up on youtube tomorrow. After this, you can sign yourself out of here if you want to. The doctors thought you should maybe stay."  
Mirka frowned at Andy. "'In that case.."   
She stopped when she saw Andy shaking his head. "Let him do what he wants to do."  
Roger stiffened. "So thankful to have your permission. Just- let me get dressed in peace. Both of you."

Andy, seething, left the hospital room, trying very hard not to slam the door behind him. Blind to everything else, he headed toward the man room, entered a stall and smashed his fist at the door, again and again. God, he was angry.  
The room of his stall, which he hasn't locked, opened wide. Luthi stood there. "Are you crazy?"  
Andy stopped at once, and gulped hugely. "What the fuck are you doing here?"  
Luthi gestured. "It's a bathroom, Roddick. A public bathroom." He looked at Andy. "Your hand is bleeding."  
Andy looked, he had scraped his knuckles. "It's fine." He glared at Luthi, and smiled a none-so-pleasant smile. "No wonder you didn't flip a lid when Roger told you."  
Luthi blinked. "My English isn't that good." Andy sighed. "Got mad, when Roger told you that he was gay, that he and Mirka weren't really together, that he was seeing me. You reacted well. Now, it turns out you got what you've always wanted."  
Luthi sighed. "I didn't get mad because I'm not homophobic, because I could understand Roger's decision to keep it a secret, and because he's my friend. And yes, I was happy to hear Mirka was actually free. It took us a while, to work through that, they both lied to me for many years. I didn't tell Roger about Mirka and me because a. Mirka didn't want me to. B. We didn't know whether it was going to work. C. We were worried about his reaction."  
Andy's smile was bitter. "Well, you were right to be worried."  
Luthi sighed, and looked away. "He's never been too good with changes."  
Andy scratched his hair. "Especially major, life-altering changes being forced on him. Do you know anyone who is good with those? This was really the best way you could think of, just spring it on him?"  
Luthi grimaced. "You told him. Not us."  
"Go to hell. Just fucking go to hell, Luthi. You left me no choice."  
Luthi sighed. "There was never going to be a good way. We had hoped you might – Mirka had hoped you two might…figure it out on your own, I guess."  
Andy looked away. "Well, she and I both."   
Luthi nodded his head toward the stall. "What was that all about?"  
Andy shot him a look. "None of your business, between Roger and me, that's it." He washed his hand and face at the sink, realizing it was after 2 AM. "What do you expect us to do? Come out? Just like that."  
Luthi's voice was measured and calm, as the man always was, and Andy wondered whether he's practiced the speech in advance. "No, it's nothing we expect you to do or not do. Mirka and me are not going to force Roger to come out against his will, nor you, for that matter – but we will not hide our relationship, and neither will we hide that we have done nothing wrong."  
He looked at Andy, his expression sympathetic. "You really didn't discuss this at all?"  
Andy wiped his face with a paper towel, and then pressed with it on his knuckles till the bleeding stopped, and flicked it to the garbage. "We haven't really gotten that far, I'm not sure he fully grasped yet that coming out is going to be unavoidable if you and Mirka are dating. His reaction was already extreme…" He tried to keep his voice nonchalant and short, but suspected Luthi knew better. "The idea of Mirka not being there 24/7 while he is on tour freaks him out." He shook his head. "I can't get into that with him here, and…" He suddenly took a deep breath. "My parents know- about me. John knows - that I'm gay. They know there is someone, and that he is from the tour, they just don't know it's Roger. I never told them, and they don't have a clue. Larry doesn't know, neither does my agent. I can't expect the reaction to be a good one."   
Luthi's voice was soft, and he was grateful the man avoided a pat on the back or something. "Andy, We don't intend – Look, there is no set time limit for you to come out. Mirka and Me, we both care about Roger too much to hurt him, and I don't want to force you either. We'll keep it a secret, for a while. We're not heartless, We just wanted you two to realize that this is where it is ultimately going. We do not want to hide, so Roger will have to tell his parents, and Tony, and eventually the world in general. I refuse to be the bad guy, here. I don't want to be considered as a man bits the hand that feeds him and run away with his girlfriend."   
He paused. "When I asked you whether or not you and Roger have discussed it, I meant in general, not just now."  
Andy sighed. "Not as such. No. It was just… we just told you and Pierre a month or so ago, Severin. Well – Roger told you, not me. We didn’t' discuss this in advance, it just happened." He rubbed his eyes. "And, your timing stinks, too."  
Luthi frowned. "Is he alright?"  
"Stupid thing, really. Stupid accident. Hit his head hard on the edge. Freaked me out."  
Luthi inquired. "Can he leave the hospital?"  
Andy shrugged. "I won't baby him, he knows his body well enough to know if he's feeling well enough to leave." He glanced at himself in the mirror again, and said. "Let's get the hell out of here."  
They exited the bathroom together, to find Roger already standing at the desk, conversing with the doctor in Swiss German, discharging himself. Andy could see the doctor did not look pleased, but that Roger was insistent, while laying on his usual persuasive boyish charm. He had flip-flops on. Of course Mirka arranged for that. He inwardly rolled his eyes.  
Upon closer inspection, he could see how pale and tired Roger was. And the way he was holding on to the counter was not reassuring. Roger turned to him, and he could see his eyes resting on Severin, hard and cold. Andy gave the man credit for not flinching away, instead – he approached. "There are reporters outside."  
Mirka gasped. "What? Already?"  
Severin continued. "I suggest we take my car back, and drive all together." As inconvenient as it may be. He meant.  
Before Roger and Andy had time to react, Andy heard a voice behind them, a man and a woman, in their thirties, accompanied by a doctor, approached Roger tentatively in Swiss German. Mirka interfered at once, and Andy understood she was telling them it was not a good time, but Roger frowned when he listened to them, and then glanced up toward the doctor who was with them. The doctor nodded gravely, and Roger, sighing softly, nodded as well, causing the woman to burst into tears.  
Andy frowned, he couldn't understand a word of it. Roger, distracted and clearly upset, glanced at him. "They have a daughter in the children's wing. She's… a fan."  
"Well, can't you come back tomorrow or something?" Andy mouthed, his eyes signaling to Roger that this isn't really a good idea.  
Mirka, tiredly, shook her head. "She's up in children Oncology, Andy. And she's not doing well."  
There was no point of prolonging the conversation; he knew what Roger was going to do.  
They followed the parents up to the second floor. The girl was in a private room. Roger turned toward the parents and asked them with a frown. "It's very late, isn't she asleep?"  
The woman tearfully shook her head no. "She's sort of drifting in and out."  
Roger's face were white and grave. "And there's nothing more than can be done?"  
The child's father shook his head no. "She'll be very happy to see you. We had tickets, for Basel. But her condition got worse, when someone from the staff told us you are here…" He let his voice drift.  
The doctor that was with them gave Roger a mask for his face, and then turned toward the others. "I am sorry, but her immune system is very weak, I can't have too many people there."  
Mirka nodded. "That's fine. We'll wait outside."  
As Roger walked into the room, Andy peeked through the window. "Holy hell." He exclaimed.  
The child, who was probably around ten years old, but seemed smaller, was lying in bed, seemingly asleep. She was bald, underneath a white RF cap. Her room was filled with Fedbears. He exchanged looks with Mirka, who shook her head in alarm, biting her lip. "Oh god. I don't know how he'll deal with this."  
Andy swallowed, and said grimly. "He won't. Who would? Not Roger, anyway. Fucking hell."

Andy watched as Roger, tentatively, approached the girl's bedside, taking in the room. He looked at her parents, and carefully sat at the girl's bedside, as her parents gently woke her up. The girl opened her eyes and saw Roger, her eyes widened.   
They listened to the conversation, though Andy relied on Mirka to translate for him what she could pick up on. The girl showed Roger her bears, and they had a discussion about tennis. She used to play, the girl. And she had a two handed backhand because her coach told her it was better, but she want to hit with one hand just like him, but she couldn't play now that she was ill, and She liked Roger best out of everyone everyone everyone. And always rooted for him, and she saw him play in Basel last year, when she was in remission, but then she got sick again, so she watched his matches on TV.   
Roger asked her questions about that in a soft voice, and listened to the replies, and signed all her Fedbears, and her hat. But it was obvious that after the excitement of the few moments, the girl was growing very weak, so much so Mirka couldn't make out her voice, and it was obvious Roger was struggling with the situation. And then she asked for a hug. Roger, very carefully, leaned in to hug her. And they could see her whispering something in his ear. And the careful smile Roger had on when he talked to her was wavering at the edges after that.  
The girl was asleep soon afterwards, and Roger stepped off to the corner to talk to her parents. Andy speculated – their voices was too soft to hear – that he was offering his help.   
But the parents shook their head, because there was apparently nothing that could be done that money can buy, and Roger glanced back toward the bed, the anguish clear on his face. So much so that the girl father put a comforting hand on his shoulder. So, at last, he had shaken the parents hands, and exited the room. Andy shook his head in relief, because he couldn't imagine standing there, talking to these parents about their obviously dying daughter and be as collected as Roger managed to be.

Roger headed directly at them, his lower lip set, but there was no missing the tears filling his eyes now that he was out of there, and his face were ashen.  
"Lets go"  
Mirka glanced at Andy, and Andy knew she could see it too. He did not look good. "Roger, I don't know."  
Roger leaned one hand heavily on the wall, and wiped at his face with the other. Then said wearily. "I just- I want out of here. Take me home, or I'll take a cab. "  
Andy sighed. "Fine. For the record, you look like crap, and I think that maybe I was too hasty to suggest you should leave."  
"I – I don't care. I discharged myself, and I just- " He rubbed at his forehead. "I just want to go, okay?" He looked around and shivered. "I hate this place."  
Andy sighed, then glanced toward Luthi. "You want maybe to bring your car to the back entrance. We're a little underdressed."  
Luthi nodded. "Yes, sure. It's raining out there."

Roger flopped on the couch. No, flopped wasn't the right word for it, Andy thought. Sank, was more like it. And stared at the floor, his head bowed low. Andy mentally attached the pose to Roger's Grand Slam defeats, and being stuck in public while going through internal turmoil. He, too - was stuck, they were in public, so he couldn't as much as go and put a hand on Roger's shoulder. He was still angry at him, but Roger's obvious misery was getting to him in the gut.   
He didn't want to even glance at Mirka, he didn't want to see her trying to comfort Roger, and he didn't think Roger wanted that, either, which is probably why she didn't even try. Or maybe she was angrier than he thought, but he found that hard to believe.

Eventually, Luthi called Mirka, having pulled up the hospital rear entrance, and Roger dragged himself up from the couch.  
Andy bit down on a swear as they got outside, the bite of the cold was just phenomenal. Roger entered the car hastily to the back seat, while Mirka took the front one. He curled on his side on the most remote side of his car, and pulled the hood of his sweats low over his eyes. There was no talking, each of the people in the car had fallen into a meditative silence, wrapped in his own thoughts.   
The drive back wasn't a short one, and Andy, exhausted to his core, let his mind wander, while keeping Roger in his line of sight. Eventually, tiredness took over. Lulled to sleep by the steady rumble of the car and the heat Luthi had cranked up, Andy's eyes drifted shut.

A few moments later though, he was startled awake by Roger's choked up voice. He was speaking to Luthi.   
Luthi glanced back and replied back something in rapid, stressed, Swiss German. Roger leaned forward and repeated whatever he said forcefully, pleadingly almost.   
Before Andy had time to figure out what was going on, Luthi, muttering and swearing, swerved right hard and stopped the car on the edges of the highway. The margins were almost none-existent. Roger opened the door on the side opposite to that of the road, leaned outside, and got immediately violently ill.   
Andy swore, moved right after him, supporting his forehead as he threw up. He looked toward Luthi. "Got any water in here?"  
Luthi, watching the cars zooming past them, barked, distressed. "Only in the back, and you're not getting out of the car. We're on the motorway, people are driving here at 130 km an hour. It's dark. You'll get killed. You're not getting out. "  
Andy looked at him, set for an argument. "Just open the trunk, I'll go get him something to drink."  
Roger sent his hand back to grab his arm. "No, don't be stupid." He choked out. "I'm alright." He pulled his upper body back into the car. "You can shut the door, I just needed…my stomach just suddenly rolled."  
Andy sighed, and leaned over him to shut the door, then helped Roger rise and lean against the seat. He searched his face with growing concern. "What, did you get dizzy? Rog, maybe we should go back."  
Roger shook his head no, and heaved. "No. It's not the head…It's sore, but it's fine. I It's…." He buried his face in his hands. "God. Just - She – I've…God. I've never seen anyone- this close to dying." He mouthed softly. "She - She said." He swallowed "That she'll root for me from heaven, if she dies. Can you believe this." Andy closed his eyes. Well. Shit. He cupped Roger's face in his hands."We- we couldn't hear that part."  
Roger closed his eyes, and the tears spilled over. He wiped at his face. "Did you see all those bears?" Andy nodded, though Roger eyes were closed and he didn't see him. "Yeah."   
He lowered his forehead to Roger's shoulder. "I'm sorry, babe. That was – I don't know what to say. I can't imagine how it made you feel."  
Roger shrugged in misery. "She has like – like a week, her parents said, maybe a little bit more. Her bone marrow transplant failed. Other options didn't work. Then they saw me in the hospital and thought, you know, it would make her happy." He buried his face in his hands, and choked out, his voice ragged with tears. "I'll never get her face off my mind. And there was nothing I – there was could. do. A part of me wishes I didn't have to go in there. To talk to her about tennis while she's dying. I mean – who the hell cares? Why does she? When you're this close to…why does it comfort her, I… I don't get it, I didn't feel like I've helped with - anything."  
Andy, his heart aching, pulled Roger against him, mouthing to Mirka and Luthi to just drive on, as they looked on in a concerned silence. He was glad they didn't say anything, though both were distressed. This was for him and Roger – they just happened to be here, and he did his best to shut them out.

He stroked Roger's hair, careful not to touch where Roger was hurt. "Rog." He inhaled and exhaled, not sure what to say to him. "Visiting her, giving her a nice distraction - that's maybe all there is right now. She's a child. She was a fan before she got ill, and she stayed a fan after she got ill. She probably spent a long time in treatment, watching you on TV…kids – they see things a bit differently. You took the time to visit her, and cheer her up a bit. For you it's not enough, for her – her parents, it's everything." He sighed, and then said softly "And I wish you didn't have to go in too."

"I'm – I'm just so tired." Roger mumbled. "It's like I can't even think straight."  
Andy frowned and looked outside. "We're going to be there in 15 minutes. Come on, why don't you rest your head, you're mentally and physically wiped." He sighed. "Don't-I know it's difficult, but… this girl.."  
"Kathrine"  
"Rog, she got her wish, and you helped it happen. Can you try and focus on that, rather on…" He let his voice trail off, he knew it was impossible, and in Roger's place, he wouldn't be able to do that either. I figured it would stay with Roger for a long while.  
Roger shook his head no. "I-No. I - keep seeing her, and think how she's going to.…" He gulped on air, and let out a shuddering breath.   
Andy looked at him helplessly "I know. I'm sorry."   
Roger looked and sounded truly miserable, and he could see his exhaustion had played a big role in that. "Look. Just – close your eyes. I want you to rest." He stroked Roger's forehead. "It's going to be okay." He was mumbling nothings into his ear, but there was nothing else to say. "I know it's a little difficult to see this right now, but really, I promise. It will be okay." And he left that sentence general on purpose, because yeah, he was pissed at Roger, but not pissed enough to be cold to him right now.   
Roger didn't respond, but fell quiet and allowed his head to sink against Andy's shoulder, surrendering to Andy's comfort. However, when Andy caught a glimpse of the reflection of Roger's face in the window. He could see Roger's eyes were open, and he didn't need to be a mind reader to know he wasn't just thinking about this poor girl.

Mirka and Luthi started conversing between them in the softest Swiss German, and he could tell Roger was listening. Whether he could make out the words over the sounds of the soft classical music Luthi had on, and the swirl of the air-conditioning system, he couldn't say.  
However, when they pulled up 10 minutes afterwards, Roger's eyes were closed, and Andy hoped he wasn't asleep too deeply. He looked toward Mirka. "You're staying here?" Roger's apartment was a huge complex, on which Mirka had her own private suite.   
Mirka looked at Luthi. "This – this is what we were trying to decide. I think this is a bad idea."  
Andy shook his head and said softly. "It's the only idea. We need to talk it out in the morning, after everyone have had a sufficient amount of rest. And - this is your place too. And the weather getting worse, you really shouldn't drive anymore tonight either, Severin."  
Luthi fidget and rubbed his forehead. "I – I really don't feel comfortable staying. Andy."  
Andy sighed. Not Good. "Do me a favor. Stay. It's important; we can't leave things like this. We can't. We need to talk, and make decisions. I know how deeply he cares about both of you, and vice versa. Today was not a good day. Tomorrow will be better."   
Mirka glanced at Roger and mouthed. "Is he asleep?"  
Andy shrugged, and brushed his fingers through Roger's hair. "I think so. He's – we were awake since 6 AM. We played tennis in the morning, it's nearly 3 AM right now. That fucking bump to the head, all that emotional upheaval. Go up, I'll wake him, but I think we should just all go to bed and not talk about anything tonight. I made a mistake telling him while he was in the hospital, in those circumstances. " I-" He sighed. "I was… upset. I needed to share, it was a mistake. I did it the wrong way. It would have been better coming from you, or maybe…I don't know. Not the way it happened, that's for sure." He looked at Mirka, her eyes were bloodshot. "Go to sleep, Mirka, this was a really rough day."  
Luthi glanced at her and gave her a hand. "Lets go up."

When they were gone, he touched Roger's shoulder. "Rog. Babe."  
"Hmmm."  
"Get up. We're there."  
Roger swallowed, and dragged himself to a seated position. He looked blearily at Andy, who smiled thinly at him. "You've been asleep for maybe 10 minutes. We're home."  
Andy could see Roger's mind clearing, and when he opened his mouth, he shushed him. "Look. We're going straight to bed. Okay? Do you mind doing this for me? Just – let's just go to bed. We tried talking today, it really didn't work. Lets start over tomorrow."  
Roger looked at Andy, and Andy could feel his eyes searching his face. At last, Roger took a deep breath, and nodded slowly. "That's fine." He rubbed his eyes. "More than fine."

When they got up, the apartment was dark and silent. Roger looked at Andy, who simply replied. "They probably turned in."  
Roger didn't react one way or another. When they got to the bedroom, Andy realized the sheets were still soaking wet from before. "Fuck. Well. Sit down, I'll change the sheets."  
Roger rubbed his face. "I'll go brush my teeth."  
As soon as Andy touched the sheets, he realized the mattress was also wet. Muttering to himself, he flipped the mattress to the other side, and was busy with the sheets when he felt Roger's arms enveloping him from behind, tucking his head in the curve of his neck. Andy straightened slowly, and closed his eyes. Roger was a solid presence behind him. That felt good, lending the comfort all day was wearing on him, leaning back a little was… a relief.   
He titled his head to the side, to find Roger, who had obviously splashed some water on his face – looking more alert and mentally together than before, looking at him somberly. It was obvious that even the few minutes of rest and sleep had helped him to gather his emotions. But his eyes were terribly bloodshot and tired, and Andy could feel the weariness exuding from him. He turned around, still between Roger's arms. "Bed." He simply said.  
Roger shrugged. "I know you are mad at me. I wondered maybe you were going to sleep in another room, or something."  
Andy smiled dryly. "I'm not terribly happy with you, no. But - Roger. If I was going to go disgruntled fifties housewife on you, it would have happened by now, on other occasions." He straightened. "Not going anywhere today." He paused. "Unless you want me to."  
Roger looked away. "No, not really." He moved a hand over his face. "More like, really not." He glanced at Andy. "Are you only staying here - because of before?" He averted his eyes. "I won't have another meltdown. You don't have to stay here, it's not like we lack rooms."  
Andy sighed softly. "I was always going to stay here, Roger. And you didn't have a meltdown. This was…a really tough, painful experience, in addition to a pretty rotten, fucked up day. When I said 'it's okay' before, I really did mean it."  
Roger's eyes lighted just a bit at that, and Andy sighed. "But I also need a little bit of space tonight, kay? I love you, and I don't want to make things difficult on you, but I – I don't want to act like I'm not mad when I really am for the wrong reasons."  
Roger smiled slightly. "Such as, my none-meltdown?"  
Andy smiled. "For example."  
Roger considered, then nodded, and released his hold on Andy. That didn't feel better for Andy, somehow.

Roger collapsed on the bed and Andy, a bit reluctantly, went to brush his teeth. When he got back, Roger was curled on one side, deep inside the covers. Andy took his side of the bed, stretched, and closed his eyes. The bed felt cold without Roger's body heat pressed against his. Roger was a light sleeper, and sometimes he'd toss and turn at nights, and he would hog the blanket - so they had two blankets, which made that physical separation in the same bed possible. But as much as curling up against Roger felt inviting, it was not going to make their issues go away, and he wasn't going to pretend otherswise. By the sound of Roger's breathing, he was quickly falling into sleep, and as much as Andy would have preferred to lie awake for a few moments and just think, he was quickly taken overcome by the hazy fog of a deep, dreamless, sleep.


	9. Quarrels and Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Direct Sequel to Chapter 7

It was very early morning when Roger stirred, uneasy, Almost startled. He lay there for a moment, unsure what had woken him up. He glanced at Andy, who was curled up next to him, sound asleep, an checked out his watch – a little after 5 AM.  
Something woke him, but he couldn't tell what. Then he heard the crinkle of something from the kitchen. Groggily, he got off bed, pulled a pair of sweats on and rubbed his eyes. Fuck, but his head was pounding again.  
He found Mirka digging into the wine cellar, and frowned. "Mir?"  
Mirka, startled, jumped three feet in the air, nearly dropping the bottle.  
Roger raised his hands defensively. "Sorry-sorry. Just me, It's just me."  
She put a hand on her chest. "God, you've scared me."  
Roger approached. "Sorry." He said again, then frowned. "What are you doing here?"  
Mirka, who had on a night robe, held up the bottle apologetically. "I'm sorry I intruded. I never imagined either of you would be up. I was just – the wine celler is here."  
"You're not. Intruding, that is." Roger checked up the label. Johnny Walker. He bit his lip and raised his eyebrow at her. "You know, you couldn't convince Severin to drink this if you tried."  
Mirka rolled her eyes. "God, Roger. I wasn't taking it for a romantic- thing, I was just going to have a glass."  
Okay. He blinked at her "It's like 5 in the morning, you were going to drink it now?"  
Mirka gestured aimlessly with her hand. "It's not like I could actually sleep."  
Roger cocked an eyebrow. "I know what you mean. Can you pour me some?"  
Mirka frowned. "You injured your head, I don't think it's a good idea."  
Roger smiled at her, a touch bitterly. "You know, you're going to have to get out of the habit of doing that, I'm no longer your responsibility, you don't need to worry so much about me."  
Mirka shook her head. "That's not ever ever going to change, Rogi, I'll always care."  
Roger blinked and looked away, and cleared his throat. "I'm good for a glass."  
Mirka nodded, and poured two glasses, which they took to the sofa. They both drank from their glasses, and they fell into a silence which wasn't comfortable.  
Then Roger looked at her, really looked at her. She looked good. Lost weight, which he had noticed a while back, but never really asked her why. She was happier recently, her laughter came easily. God, he was such an idiot. He groaned and buried his face in his hands.   
"Roger?" She asked softly.  
He raised his head, and put the glass on the table. "I fucked this up in a pretty big way, right?"  
Mirka shrugged sadly. "I think we all did. I really thought – that you would see."  
Roger sighed and moved a hand across his face. "I guess I didn't want to see. God. Mir. I'm so sorry. I-I didn't want to see. " He swallowed. "How long have you been interested in him?"  
Mirka looked away and Roger's eyes opened in horror. "What, Like - years?"  
Her voice was small. "Maybe… two? I was so happy that - you told him the truth."  
Roger's eyes searched her face. "If I ask you something, would you answer me honestly?"  
"You know I would."  
"Did he come on you before he knew?"  
Mirka's eyes widened "No! Roger, he'd never do that, he's your friend. I.. suspected he wasn't completely… indifferent-to me, but – everything was strictly platonic." She brushed her hair away from her face and gave Roger a pointed look. "I played my part well."  
Roger nodded, then bowed his head, distraught. "Two years you were interested in him, Why didn't you tell me?"  
She shrugged tiredly. "When, Rogi? Back in 2008, when you had mono and struggled through the entire year? Last year, after Australia, or maybe after the French, to rain on your parade? Oh, right, after Wimbledon would have been the perfect time" She finished with a sigh. "There was never a good time to tell you something you didn't want to believe."  
Roger averted his eyes. "I guess there wasn't." He finally said. "Maybe I was – too self absorbed. But you should have tried. I would have…"  
"I really didn't know what I wanted. I didn't know what he wanted, as I couldn't talk to him about it, I didn't know whether he was really interested, and I was scared too. I've gotten used to how things were. Change is scary sometimes."  
Roger took a deep, shuddering breath. "I'm sorry. I- I haven't been even one eighth of the friend to you, as you were to me. I really don't know what to say." He was suddenly overcome with guilt and emotion, and shielded his eyes with his hands. God, how badly did he not want to get emotional. Mirka was composure personified, even now. That's what he loved about her. He took a deep breath. "What do you want to see happen? What do you want from me?"  
She bit her lip. "Your blessing. Maybe - a hug."  
Roger pulled her into his arms, clutching maybe a little too hard. "A hug you can always get." Mirka closed her eyes, and let a few tears fall. "And your blessing?"   
Roger pulled back, his face guarded. "What do you want me to do? Come out?"  
She touched his cheek softly "I'll help you with your parents…" Roger yanked his head away from her, and gave her a long and pained stare but Mirka continued, soft and yet determined, "…and with everything else you'll need. I just want… to be able to have a life. I can't have that if everyone thinks I'm your girlfriend, and I can't have a relationship with Sevrin if everyone thinks I'm your ex." Roger shuddered, and pulled away from her. He got up and went to the window. "They'll never understand." He said blankly.  
Mirka got up after him, wrapping her arms around him. "You should give them more credit. They love you so much."  
Roger leaned his forehead against the window, his voice was choked. "They'd never forgive me for lying to them like that." The very thought was making him physically ill. "You know they won't. Everything they ever thought about me was a sham." He watched how the puff of his breath steamed up the window.  
Mirka swallowed "I think… it will take them time to adjust, but I think they will, and they'd realize you are exactly the same person."  
Roger didn't move his forehead from the window, his voice was wet and throaty. "Well. I don't really share your belief." He turned around "but it doesn't seem like I have much choice, right? My life is completely yours to manage, same as always."  
At Mirka's stung expression, he forced the bitterness in his voice away and gentled his voice. "I'm not mad at you, Alright? I just- I don't know what the hell to do now."  
He took another swig from his glass, the whisky burned as it made his way down his throat, and he probably shouldn't have that with the pain medication he was given tonight, but he didn't really care. He turned to look at Mirka, who was looking at him with unconcealed concern."I don't know even where to start. I mean, what's the biggest shock? I'm gay? I'm seeing Andy Roddick, you and I aren't together? Where do I start? What do I say?"  
She looked down. "I know it would be difficult with you parents, I won't say this would be easy."  
Roger wiped at his face miserably and laughed."You think?"  
Mirka bit her lip. "What does Andy say?"  
Roger buried his face in his hands. "Don't know" He groaned. "We haven't really discussed it last night. You know we were going to wait after we retire to come out, but lately – I don't know, maybe he wanted to do it sooner, and wouldn't tell me, I don't know. We were… getting really lonely without the other, but I treated it like it couldn't be helped, you know? I'm not sure whether he really wants to come out now, or maybe he's just hoping I'd want it, it's like he's looking for some kind of confirmation, I don't know. He's furious with me, he's jealous of you all of a sudden after years and years. I don't know what to do"  
Mirka paused to think. "Roger. Did it ever occur to you that maybe he doesn't want to wait until you both retire because it's not going to be at the same time?"  
Roger frowned. "He's a year younger than me, so…"  
Mirka rolled her eyes "When you announced recently you were going to play way past the London Olympics, maybe even till Rio, did you two actually talked about this? I don't see Andy playing for that many years, maybe I'm wrong – but I never got that impression he's interested in playing deep into his thirties. He's not you, Roger. Did you think what it would mean for the both of you, if you aren't out and he retires? That would mean you'd be on the tour, with me, I might add, while he won't be. Maybe he believes that this is apparently acceptable for you."  
Roger stared at Mirka, then winced and close his eyes. "I – that thought never occurred to me. That's about the last thing I want. It would make the tour a living hell. No way do I want to do it without him. "   
He sighed. "I mean - as little as we can see each other at times, we still make time, you know."  
"You should talk to him, then. What you talked about a year or two years ago maybe be irrelevant to today. Maybe he doesn't want to wait till retirement."  
Roger shook his head in disgust, exasperated. "As you are making us come out now, it doesn't really matter, does it?" He felt haunted, backed into a corner.  
Mirka raised her head to look at him, his lips set. "It matters for your relationship, but that's your problem to solve with Andy. As for me and what I need from you right now - I guess you are right- it doesn't really matter."  
Roger reeled, he expected her to protest his words, and was shocked when she didn't. "Wow, you're cruel, I didn't think you were capable of that."  
Her expression softened. "I don't mean to be. I – Rogi." She sighed and shook her head. "I'll give you time, but I need you to do that sooner rather than later."  
Roger sniffed hard, and glared at her. His voice was pained. "How much time, I need a timeline here."  
Mirka blinked. "After Australia."  
Roger's eyes opened wide. "After Australia! that's only a little over a month, with a slam in the middle of it! Tell me you are joking."  
Mirka sighed and said patiently. "What did you have in mind?"  
Roger rubbed his face. "I don't know. Until the clay?"  
Mirka shook her head rapidly. "No. No, that's too late, and there will always be something, Roger. And I didn't say in Indian Wells or Miami, because frankly – I think coming out would be very difficult for Andy to do this in the states. I think you should do this now, in the off-season. Give people time to adjust."  
Roger, seething, spat. "How about I adjust first, huh? Damn it!" His voice broke. "I can't believe you are doing this to me, I can't - " He turned from her again, and looked out the window. "You are forcing me to do this with like - zero warning. I'll need to come out to my parents and then, without as much as giving them a chance to adjust, come out to everyone else."  
Mirka wiped her face, and tried to steady her voice. "I'm aware that I've made mistakes, I let it go on for too long, even before Severin. But now…Roger, you can't delay this further, I can't lie and hide anymore, Rogi – I honestly can't, and Severin won't agree to sneak around with me, so if you're thinking of trying to convince him, forget it, he's as stubborn as you. We've talked it over, we've made up our minds."  
"Well, thank you for including me in that decision." He inhaled wetly, and the frustration and anger were clogging his voice. "It's only my life, my career."  
He shook his head helplessly, stubbornly, unwilling to accept her words. Mirka continued, undeterred. "I'll help you with everything, I swear I will. But it must happen, Roger. It MUST." She titled her head. "Don't you want it for yourself, for you and Andy?"  
Roger bit his lip. ""I- I don't know. I thought I did when it was a dream, now it's a reality, and I'm afraid it would turn into a nightmare, explode in our face and ruin what we have."   
He turned to Mirka. "Other than my parents, I guess I'm actually not terribly worried about , you know, everyone else. Not for myself anyway. I-"   
He raised his chin, his lips set."I can't be touched, in tennis, nobody can say anything to me. Some people may not be supportive, even hostile, but no way am I going to get put down on the locker-room by guys I've been killing on the court for years and years, and as far as sponsors and stuff, they can't really afford to be homophobic this day and age, and all the stuff I'm advertising, you know, Rolex, Chocolate, Mercedes – it's manly stuff, but it's not like I was ever the Marlboro man, you know?"  
Mirka smiled. "Not really."  
Roger snorted, rolling his eyes. "Anyway, other than my parents, which just petrifies me, I'm not too worried about the tour."  
Mirka blinked, this measured reaction surprised her. "Yes, I agree with that, what are you worried about, then?"  
Roger bit his lip. "Not sure it would be quite that simple for Andy, and I'm not sure he realizes that yet."  
Mirka sighed, no point in saying Andy was a Slam winner, former number 1 and in the top 10 for many years. Roger had a point, Andy wasn't as well liked across the locker-room as Roger was, thanks to his more volatile personality on the court and biting sarcasm of it, he didn't have Roger's easygoing goofy ways, and most importantly, he did not have Roger's unbelievable achievements. People weren't awed by him the way they were by Roger, he definitely wasn't as revered, not even close, and Roger, bilingual as he was, made friends easily across the world, Andy – not so much.  
Seeing the expression on her face, Roger cocked his eyebrow toward her. "You don't have anything to say to that, don't you?"  
"Roger," She sighed. "If Andy doesn't want to come out… I definitely.. God, I'm not going to out him. I need YOU to do this, and the thought of you going through that without him, I don't want to it to happen, but this is his choice, your choice together, I won't interfere with that, but Roger – I think he'll risk the reaction in the locker-room to do this with you, or he's not the man I think he is."  
Roger scratched his hair. "I just… you know what people would say and write, that he lost to me so much because he's sleeping with me, or something."  
"I think you both know it isn't true."  
Roger's hands shook. "I just- I don't know what's going to happen." God, his knees felt like jelly and he sent his hand back to grasp the wall, because his panic was getting overwhelming. He leaned heavily back, and buried his face in his hands.   
Mirka approached him slowly, then enveloped him in her arms. "Come here."  
Roger, in spite of himself, allowed himself to be pulled into her embrace. "It's going to be alright." She said, trying to sound convincing. Roger let out a wry laugh. "Don't bother, Mir." He said into her hair. "I hear what you're saying, and I accept it, I have no right to keep you where you don't want to be anymore, but don't say things will be alright, you don't know it."  
Mirka pulled back, and grasped his face in her hands. "But I do. I know how strong you are, and I think your relationship with Andy can withstand it and most like improve as a result, if I thought this was going to break you, Rogi. I wouldn't have done this. I have faith in you. Can you have faith in me, that I'm not just doing that for me, but for you as well?"  
Roger's stared at her, his face frozen, then gave a small nod. "I'll try." It's not like he had much choice.   
He looked at her. "What about you?" He asked, his voice small. "Are you leaving me? Going off tour? Because if that's a part of this whole thing, Mir, I need to know, I need to know right now, so I can prepare for the rest of my year."  
Mirka reeled back. "No! No, that's not my intention, as long as you still want me around. I – we maybe need to figure things out, make some changes – but no"  
Roger let out an audible sigh of relief, and shook his head. "No, I don't want that." He looked away. "I'm a little – angry with you right now, but… I don't want you to go?"  
Mirka looked at him. "And Severin?"  
Roger frowned. "I don't know. That's not the same, it's not the same, I - "  
"Roger, he loves you, he's been helping you for years, and he doesn't deserve this."  
Roger wiped at his face, and sighed. "Do I have to make all the decisions now, or what? I want to talk to him – I won't make any decisions before that."  
Mirka's lips tightened. "It's a package deal, Roger, I won't stay on tour without him."  
Roger paled, and stared her down silently; Mirka looked back at him, without blinking. Roger looked away, and squeezed his eyes shut. "So be it."  
Now it was Mirka's turn to look shocked. "Rog-"  
Roger looked back at her and raised his voice. "If I don't feel 100% comfortable with whatever arrangement we'd make, or with Severin, or with the reason he's been lying to for two months now - this won't happen. This is my career on the line, this is MY Goddamn life. There's no, no fucking chance in hell, I will make compromises on that, and if losing you is the price I'd have to pay for having a full crew of people I can trust fully, same as ever, then I guess that's that. Don't worry, you'll be well compensated."  
She slapped him, hard, and his head reeled back from the power of it. She still played tennis with him on a regular basis, and packed nice swing. She also did not hold back, fuck but it actually hurt, it burned sharply on his cheek.  
Shocked by her actions, she immediately put her hand over her mouth, and Roger stumbled back, guilt and confusion etched all over his face. He said blankly. "I'm going to bed."  
"Oh- Roger."  
"We're done for now, we're done. We're going to – we're going to ruin everything, just stop this, please. Go back to your apartment. I'm going to bed."  
"Please. Roger. Lets not leave it here."  
"I-I got-to. Please, go back to bed."  
Mirka frowned, then sighed. "Okay." She swallowed. "I'm going, but we have not finished discussing this." She shook her head. "I know you are hurting right now, but you're making a mistake."  
Roger shook his head stubbornly, turned his back on her, and walked back into his bedroom, not waiting to see whether she had left the place.

\---------

Andy was lying on his back in the darkened bedroom, deeply asleep, when Roger walked back in. Roger watched him for a while, the chest rising and falling with each breath, the curve of shoulder. He took off his pants and crawled back into the bed, then spread his entire length on the top of Andy. He tucked his head at the crook of Andy's neck and nuzzled it, Andy's body was warm from the sleep, and he inhaled on his scent.  
Andy stirred to find Roger's not inconsiderable frame stretched around and on top of him. He was breathing hard and wet and noisy into his neck.   
Andy, confused and groggy from sleep, moved his hand to Roger's neck. "Ummm-Ro-Rog? What."  
Realizing Andy was awake, Roger just curled tighter around him, and Andy, after a small pause, shifted a bit and stretched into the touch, and wrapped both arms around him tightly. He tried to wake up properly, he was deeply asleep when Roger settled on his diaphragm, and his mind was a little disoriented. "You okay? What time it is?"  
"Early morning." Roger whispered."Didn't really mean to wake you." Andy knew he was lying. He was also on the verge of crying, fuck what happened.  
Andy rubbed at his eyes, it was too early, he felt like ants were crawling in them. "I'd have to be sedated not to wake up from you settling on my chest." He blinked his lips. "T's okay, though."   
Roger's body relaxed a bit at that, and his feet slid against Andy's calves. Andy jumped. "Fuck, your feet are like ice, where were you?"  
"I- talked to Mirka."  
Andy was silent for a moment. "Now?" He thought Roger was going to wait for him, but he was not surprised. "How did it go?"  
He could feel Roger gulp against his chest. "Went from bad to horrible." And then, almost as an after thought. "She slapped me."  
Andy froze and raised his head to look at him, and no fucking kidding, you could actually see the faint sign of a bruise, Andy touched it and Roger winced. "She got you good. What the fuck did you say to her?"  
There was another gulp of air, wet and miserable. "Something I guess I shouldn't have." He did not elaborate, and Andy made a conscious decision not to probe, that wasn't the biggest issue. Roger moved his head restlessly against Andy's chest, burrowing closer. "I messed up everything. Start to finish. I thought…I don't know how I could think she was happy with the way things were. I'm such an idiot. You also tried to tell me, but I wouldn't see it. She was miserable. I hate myself." His last words were muffled into Andy's shoulder.  
There was nothing Andy could say to that. "Yeah, well – not the last bit, and you're not an idiot, you just –" He clicked his tongue and sighed. "It worked, for a long while – it worked, for all of us. It stopped working, Rog. We all outgrew the old arrangement, and especially Mirka, and it happened a long while ago."   
There was a long pause before Roger spoke " I know. She told me. And I get her decision on the rational level, but I feel really betrayed, by this fucking ultimatum, for having no preparation whatsoever." He took a deep breath. "I have until the end of Australia before they start going out in public, isn't that great?"  
"You're fucking kidding me, right?"  
"No."  
"Luthi told me last night they'd give us some time, a month? Is this a fucking joke?"  
Roger swallowed hard, then raised his head to catch Andy's eyes. "This doesn't have to include you, you know. I mean, Mirka needs me to come out, not you." He rested his head back on Andy's chest and said miserably. "You don't have to."  
Andy blinked. "I don't have to?"  
"Yeah."  
Andy pressed his lips. "Fuck you, and your fucking insecurities, Federer."   
Roger's face hardened in reply, and he sat up, yet still straddling Andy. "It's not about my insecurities. It's about you not hating me in six months time, after you've been forced to do something you don't really want to do because of a situation that is out of your control." A muscle in his cheek clenched. "Do you even want to come out, or do you just want me to want it? It's not the same." He grimaced. "You threw a fit last night at me, but you never once told me 'Roger, I want to come out'. I don't want you to do it if you just feel obligated."   
Andy shook his head, seething. "You are *fucking* unbelievable, Roger. You think I'm doing this because I'm obligated?! Seriously? That's what you believe?!"  
"You're not doing anything yet! You got upset at what I didn't want, instead of telling me what you DID want."  
Andy sighed. "I know I was a little unsympathetic last night, it wasn't one of my finest moments, alright?"  
Roger grimaced and averted his eyes. "Right. a little unsympathetic?!"  
"I got jealous, okay? Your reaction didn't help things. You have this emotional connection with Mirka, I deal with it, I get it, I don't hate her, I actually like her – a lot, but I hate what you have together. To see you absolutely lose it over the possibility of seeing less of her and maybe a little more of me – it fucking hurt, it was not a good feeling."  
He sighed, then ran his fingers along Roger's arm, tired of the argument. "You want maybe get up so we can talk normally or…"  
Roger stiffened and frowned at Andy's words, and rolled off him to lie on his back, stung. He stared at the ceiling, and his breaths were harsh in the quietness of the room. Andy watched his eyelashes flutter for a moment before reaching out to him. "I just can't really focus on what we're discussing when you are sitting on me, for obvious reasons." At Roger's none reaction, he sighed. "Roger. It wasn't meant as a snub."  
Roger moved his head away from Andy's touch. "Right." He shielded his eyes with the back of his arm.   
Andy rubbed at his face, he didn't know what to do anymore, Roger was so wound up, and everything he seemed to do was wrong, so he waited.  
Several moments later, Roger took a deep breath, removed the hand from his face and turned to Andy, looking guilty. Andy searched his face, and said earnestly. "You want to try this again, maybe?"  
"What's the use?" Roger said, looking miserable. "I'm sorry I panicked last night, but I – I can't say I feel that much better today, I just – I just feel bad, okay? I can't even break it down for you, it's just how it feels, like I'm drowning, like I'm torn into two." His eyes were bright in the thin, grey light sneaking through the window. "Last night I was caught off guard, I felt betrayed by the fact Mirka lied to me, I felt like an idiot for not realizing she was seeing Severin, I felt like a jerk that she felt like she had to go behind my back and then I realized what it means, what the implications are, and it fucking *scared* me, alright? ! It doesn't mean I don't love you or that I don't wake up lonely and cold and miserable every morning that I don't spend with you, it means I hate it that my life just spiraled out of my control. You obviously don't get it, and I can't explain it any better, so – you know, just leave it." He buried his face in the pillow.  
Andy swallowed, his heart twisting with a wave of sympathy. "Rog, I do get it. I do. Fucking hell, don't shut me out like that." He leaned over him and kissed the back of his head, gently, to avoid hurting him. "It's just – it's not so bleak, it doesn't have to be." Roger didn't lift his head, and Andy sighed. "Babe, It's not. I don't know if it's going to be alright, I don't know – but.." He whispered into Roger's ear. "No fucking way am I letting you drown." Andy wrapped his arms around Roger from behind, pulling the long body against him, squeezing hard. He took a deep breath. "And to answer your question," He swallowed hard. "I want to come out, Mirka or no Mirka, doesn't matter. Lets do this."  
Roger turned, and Andy relaxed his grip a little to allow him to do that. Roger's eyes were uncertain. Andy's serious and determined. "Don't tell me you're happy the way things are. The hiding, the lies, the loneliness. I'm tired of it, I know you are too."   
"Of course I'm not happy about things are!" Roger snapped. "I want you and a real normal relationship, but when I think about all the problems, telling people, the press, my parents - I just get…I can't see beyond that. I don't think I can do this, I'm not sure YOU can do it, I'm afraid you'd hate me, and then I'd lose everything."  
Andy was stunned. "Roger…it won't happen"  
"Don't tell me it can't happen. What happens the first time you'll get the brush off in the locker-room, or the first time…" He clammed up.  
Andy's eyes narrowed. "What?"  
"I just – I can see the articles, in the papers, the day after."  
Andy rolled so they were lying side by side again, and sighed."Okay. Yeah. So do I, it's 2010, Rog. Frankly, I think more people would root for us than the other way around. Don't know if you've heard, but being gay is in now."  
"Not in sport, not in tennis - I just don't want," He closed his eyes, and mumbled something almost inaudibly to himself. "I just don't want you to decide it wasn't worth it the first time a reporter asks you, for example, whether being involved with me has hurt your changes to win more Grand Slams." His lips were set in a hard line. "Because they will ask that, as well as a thousand of other questions, again, and again, and again."  
Andy stiffened. "We really don't have to answer every fucking stupid question a reporter asks us, I've been known to say no comment before, and so have you, on occasion."  
Roger quirked an eyebrow. "When they ask us what we like to do in bed, we can tell them to go to hell, but this is a tennis related question."  
"The fuck it is. It's not a tennis related question."  
"Andy."  
"No, no fucking way am I going to start answering stuff like that, and if I can't avoid it, I'm sure I can come up with an answer."  
Roger's eyes searched his face. "Now I am curious."  
Andy glowered at Roger. "Well. Lets try this for size. 'Right after I've missed that backhand volley in Wimbledon finals, my first thought was 'maybe I should have kept him tied to the bed the night before. Like that?"  
Roger pressed his lips, unimpressed. "I think you'll retain your crown as the king of pressers after that, but you won't have sex for a year, a least not with this guy. Wanna give it another shot?"   
Andy groaned into Roger's shoulder. "I don't know what I'll say if they ask, but no, I never thought I was losing to you because of our relationship, maybe had we started it earlier… but I've already lost to you dozen of times before we ever known the other one was gay, much less started seeing each other so… no, the answer is no."  
He sighed. "I can't promise not to let the questions get to me, but I can promise to try to keep it cool, and I can promise the questions won't make me think I'm better off without you, okay?"  
Roger nodded, but still haven't smiled. Andy touched Roger's cheek, the bruised one. "Don't tell me you are only reluctant because you are worried about me." His face were somber. "Aren't you at all excited about the idea of coming out?"  
Roger shivered, and closed his eyes. "I don't know. I'm scared to death, alright? My parents…" He buried his face in his hands. "They adore Mirka, they were never even a bit suspicious. I don't know what to do, I don't think I can tell them. The thought itself is making me feel sick." He looked at Andy, his face were ashen. "I just feel like I've missed my chance to tell them. I lied too much about so many things. I should have told them long, long ago. I never found the nerve, I never had any real reason to come out, I was fine with what I had. I don't know how to do it, it is almost unreal to me." He looked at Andy. "Everything else, I can deal with. But my parents? I don't know how"  
Andy pulled Roger against him, hugging him tightly. "I know. I don't know what to say. If I promise to be there when you tell them, would it help?"  
Roger looked at Andy wistfully, then shook his head. "No – I should probably just tell them, you know, about me, first. About Mirka and I not being together. That should be enough to start with."   
He gulped air in, then glanced at Andy. "What about your family?"  
Andy shrugged. "Well, they know. They just don't know it's you." He bit his lip, deep in thought. Roger asked. "How do you think they'd react?"  
Andy shook his head. "I have no idea. I mean, they know there's someone, they don't know he is a tennis player, and you'd be their last guess anyway."  
Roger attempted a smile which never reached his eyes. "We'd shock everyone, should be good."  
Andy didn't buy that. "Rog. Your parents love you, you have brought them nothing but pride and joy. This won't change."  
Roger didn't say anything, the distress was etched all over his face. Andy eyes searched his face for a long moment, and eventually he asked, resigned. "Do you want me to talk to Mirka?"  
"What?" Roger frowned. "What for?"  
Andy shook his head. "I- I can't see you like that, really, I can't. Maybe… maybe I can get her to change her mind." He did not sound convinced..  
Roger looked at him, shocked. "Even though this is what you want?"  
Andy laughed a short laugh and rubbed at his face. "I maybe wanted to come out, but – it's not like I was going to suggest this right now, and you're…" He gestured with his hand. "Miserable. I don't want to see you forced into it, I want you to want it, if you can't want this ."  
Roger wiped his face with the back of his hand and shrugged. "No use talking to her, her mind is made up, and – I don't want you guilt-tripping her. She deserves her freedom. This is what she wants, I have to respect her wishes, I owe her that much."   
"Why did she slap you?"  
Roger sighed. "Lets just say I probably deserved that though – " He sighed. "I'm afraid, that some things will remain broken forever after today."  
Andy's voice was soft and reassuring. "I'm sure they won't, you're just not really used to fighting with her."  
Roger looked at him. "I do fight with her, but not about anything that matters. And - I've got my priorities right now, and she has hers, she made that clear – " He shrugged. "It's not ever going to be the same, and maybe it shouldn't be." He sighed. "I appreciate the suggestion to talk to her, but you won't change her mind, and…" He gave a little sad shrug. "I guess I have to deal with it, the problem with my parents isn't going to go away in a year or two, is it?"  
Andy squeezed Roger's hands hard. He thought he has never loved him more. "No, it won't."  
"So it's either now, or never. This won't get much easier after I retire." Roger wasn't asking, he was stating a fact.  
"Unlikely." Andy bit his lip, and smiled slightly. "So, what are you saying here, Rog? We're doing this, or what?"  
Roger's eyes bore into him. "Tell me you won't regret this, promise me. Everyone's reaction, American media, your coach, the guys in the locker-room, Your friendship with Mardy." He struggled to get the words out. "I just think – the locker-room, it would be harder for you than for me."  
Andy snorted sadly. "Rog. I realize that. It evens out though, you have your parents to deal with, I'll probably get more shit in the locker-room."   
"And Mardy?"  
Andy exhaled. "Probably would have to kiss that friendship goodbye. Maybe he's not worth it, we'll see. Trying to figure out what the reactions would be is too nerve-wrecking, though I have some ideas." He didn't dislodge his hands from Roger's grip, but shifted his legs a bit so Roger would lie on top of him more comfortably. "No regrets, I swear to you. I can't promise you I won't have difficult times, as I know you will, and I'm sure that we'll take it out on each other on some point, and have some fucking spectacular fights, but I can promise you no regrets." His eyes searched Roger's. "It would be fucking worth it, what we have – it's worth it."  
Gasping softly, Roger tilted his head to kiss Andy. There was a long sigh in the kiss, and while the sound wasn't exactly contented, Andy could feel Roger's body relaxing a fraction, tension ebbing just a bit, acceptance sinking in.   
Roger shifted and moved against Andy, stretching on top of him, arching his spine as their bodies pressed against one another. He rolled his head against Andy as he kissed him, and Andy winced a bit at the scratch of Roger's unshaved face, but tilted his head to deepen the kiss nonetheless.   
Eventually, Roger pulled back, allowed both men to gain their breaths, and lowered his head to Andy's shoulder. "Yes," His voice was nothing more than a ghost of a whisper against Andy's shoulder blade. "It would be worth it."   
His fingers tightened around Andy's even tighter. "Andy." He whispered, and the words got lodged in his throat as a tsunami of warmth spread through his body, spiking from his heart to the edges of his finger tips, tingly and overpowering, and his mouth went dry. "God." He said hoarsely. "I love you." He mouthed the words again."I love you."  
Andy swallowed shakily.."Yeah." He said, his emotions reflecting on his face and in his voice. "I kinda like you too, Fed"  
Roger chuckled softly, both at the word 'like', as well as Andy's use of the chummy tour nickname, the one Andy sometimes liked to use when being asked about him in interviews and such. He never called him Federer, that was too cold, and would have been too weird, because people on tour who knew him and got on with him well called him by his first name, and Andy did call on Roger, on occasion, But whenever he called him Fed, he knew it was because Andy was worried his true feelings would shine through as he said Roger's name.  
"Good to know." He nuzzled Andy slowly. "Love, Like. Lots of nice 'L' words today. There's also lust. That's important, too."   
"Hmmm." Andy made a voice of assent and lifted his head to kiss Roger again."I think we got that part covered."  
Roger groaned into his mouth, and shivered all over when Andy sucked on his tongue. "God. Yeah." He bucked against Andy and rolled his hips. Andy swore and gasped. "W-wait." He grasped Roger's shoulder, fingers digging deep. "Ro-Rog." He exhaled deeply. "You were suppose to take it easy for a couple of days, remember?"  
"No." Roger groaned, and moved his lips across Andy's jawline, "I don't remember, and don't remind me."  
Andy's fingers clenched harder, and he laughed tightly. "Fuckstop, don't be an idiot. You're not supposed to be doing this."  
Roger stilled his hips, and pouted. "I've taken the pain killers the doctor gave me, I feel better - and I don't recall a sex ban"  
Andy said pointedly. "The doctors told you not to exert yourself, sex counts toward it, especially the way we do it."   
"Well, when I'm topping, yeah." Roger rolled off Andy , taking his boxers shorts at the same time. He leaned back, looked up at Andy, and flushed. "That's not exactly what I – had in mind."  
Andy looked at Roger. He was deliciously naked and hard, Christ. "Yeah? What's that?"   
Roger, not taking his eyes off Andy, grabbed his arm and pulled him on top of him, then enveloped his legs around Andy's, encoring him closer. "You know what." He arched up against Andy, and his eyes closed at how good it felt. "Want to fuck me?"  
Andy gasped, he could feel himself hardening instantly. "Roger." He licked his lips. "Why now?" He frowned. "And no flippant answer, yeah – I want to fuck you." He lowered his head to Roger neck, and took a deep breath to compose himself. " I *always* want to fuck you - but why now? We haven't done it once since the season's been over."  
Roger's eyes clouded and he flushed. "Wow." He said, his throat suddenly dry. "Things can't be good if you're actually keeping count." He paused to think. "I guess it had been a long while, but you haven't said anything."  
Andy smiled wryly, and little bitterly, and it stung Roger to see that. "Rog, I know you are reluctant during tournaments, and I guess I've gotten a little used to not doing it - I know it's not your favorite thing, and you haven't offered, either." He said pointedly.  
Roger's searched Andy's face. "I –" He grimaced. "I don't what to say. I do like topping better, but you gotta know I like this too, a lot," He emphasized. "I just – need to be in the - right mood." He looked up at Andy. "But I don't want to feel like I'm withholding sex from you, if you want to – ask me. Unless I'm playing the next day, or something – tell me you know I would say yes."  
Andy lowered his forehead onto Roger's. "Look, I'd be lying if I didn't say I'd like to fuck you a little more often than we currently do, but not for the wrong reasons."  
"What the hell does that mean, wrong reasons?"   
Andy frowned. "Whenever are you asking for it it usually tells me you're not in such a great place mentally." Roger averted his face, but Andy touched his cheek and made him look back at him. "It's making me feel not so great about it, I'm willing to be persuaded otherwise, though."  
Roger averted his face, then looked back. "Okay so? Does it really matter? Yes - when I'm upset and going through stuff and feel all – vulnerable," He struggled to get the words out. "This is when I feel…this is when I really want, need it." He sighed. "Jesus, can't we be guys about it?"  
Andy smiled a bit. "Be guys about it?"  
"Do it, not talk about it." Roger was practically pouting.  
Andy laughed into Roger's shoulder, then, smile dying a bit on his lips, he caressed Rogers jaw with his thumb. "I just don't –"   
"Trust me judgment? Want me, what is it?"  
Andy glowered down at him. "Fucking stop it, Roger. Lets not fucking pretend I don't actually know you pretty well. Whenever you were in this mood, and wanted me to fuck you, you've always wanted it rough."  
Roger frowned. "So? You like it a little rough on occasion, you did yesterday."  
"Yeah, I like it a little rough on occasion, but babe, I can come in here drunk on a good win and want you to fuck me, it's not the same for you." His voice softened. "Had you just won a match and came in here and told me you wanted me to fuck you hard enough to make you scream, I'd have you up against the mirror over there faster than you can blink, but not when you're this upset and emotional. There's no way in hell it's going to make either one of us feel good, especially since it's been fucking months since we've done this at all."  
Roger looked toward the mirror, then back to Andy, and cocked an eyebrow. "Against the mirror, really? What, so we can watch ourselves?" A long shudder went through his spine and he swallowed. "We should really try that."  
Andy groaned in frustration at the change of subject and lowered his forehead to the Swiss's shoulder. "Christ, Roger. Don't – do that." He raised his head and whispered. "What do you want? Talk to me, I'll do anything you want, just not –"  
"I don't want you to be rough, this isn't what it is about. I mean – the exact opposite, even." He shrugged. "I know sometimes, in the past I did want that, when - you know, I was in a bad mood, but- not today, really. I understand why you might think that, but you got it wrong this time. I- just… want you to – touch me, and I want to not do anything. Andy – I, I'm thinking too much, I worry too much, I have to think about something else. I just want to - succumb, relinquish control." Roger swallowed, and felt his face heating."I mean, as soon as we leave this bedroom, things are going to get pretty hectic, I just – really don't want to think about it for a little while, I just want to feel you - and can't do that if I'm on top, it just takes too much control, and-"  
"Shut up." Andy's voice was choked. That was the closest Roger ever got to asking for comfort sex. ""You've – said enough. This you don't need to convince me to do. Sorry I've jumped to conclusions there."  
"'S'okay. As I said, I get why you did."   
Andy, not breaking eye contact with Roger, pulled back and yanked his own boxer shorts down, then aligned himself against Roger. He slowly moved his hand alongside Roger's body. Roger twitched when Andy first touched him, and took a deep breath.  
"Sshh. Relax."  
Roger let out a strained exclaim. "That's a little hard right now."  
"Yeah, we'll take care of THAT later, just let me now, okay?"  
"Hmmm."  
Andy traced Roger's body from knee cap to the slender curve of hip and to the taut muscle of Roger's stomach, resting his hand there, moving his fingers through the soft smattering of hair on Roger's stomach. Roger's shuddered and he broke out in goose bumps, his eyes closing instantly. He bit his lower lip and slung his hand across his face, but Andy removed his hand, he wanted to see every bit of reaction.   
He leaned down, and followed a similar path with his lips – nibbling on the inside of Roger's thigh, kissing up to his stomach. He kissed slowly, generously, breathing hotly against Roger's skin. Passivity during sex wasn't Roger's thing, his neither, actually, they were both to hyperactive to remain still during anything, let alone sex, but it was clear Roger wanted to just lie there and let Andy do whatever he wanted, and that was new, and strangely thrilling.  
"Andy…" Roger whimpered. He was hard, so was Andy, but no way was Andy going to give him what he wanted so soon. He moved up Roger's body and settled across him, letting most of his weight rest on him, and held his face in his hands, caressing his thumbs along his temples. He kissed Roger's forehead, then the tip of his nose, then his lips. Roger moaned, buried his hands in Andy's hair and pulled him closer. Andy groaned into Roger's mouth, and moved his hips ever so slightly.  
"F-fuck." Roger swore, the word escaping him. Andy closed his eyes, because Roger swearing in bed was always such a huge turn on, and with the naked skin on naked skin, and fuck-yeah, being on top for the first time in ages, and this whole thing could end up being over faster than he wanted. He dipped his head to Roger's neck, and sucked, hard enough to bruise, right above the collar blade. Roger arched his head back, but immediately grimaced and gasped in pain. Andy pulled back, thinking he had hurt him. "You alright?"  
Roger reached out to touch the back of his head, felt the bump there and hissed.  
"Ou. No-yeah. Shit." Roger hissed. "I just can't lean-my head all the way back. Idiotic." He glanced up at Andy, noticing his frown. "I'm okay, don't stop, I just – ugh." He grimaced.  
Andy reached out for a pillow and placed it carefully under Roger's neck, in a way which allowed for space between the back of Roger's head and the bed."Lean your head back." Roger carefully did, and then sighed in relief when he realized what Andy had done. "Oh."  
"Better?"  
"Oh. So much better, Oh-oh fuck-godyes." Roger groaned as Andy didn't waste any time before catching one of his nipples between a finger and a thumb, and rubbed, not too hard, combining between that and sucking on Roger's neck, now even more exposed than before. He thrust his hips forward, but Andy stilled his hips, ignoring the urge to rub against him, that's always brought them off fairly quickly, and that's not what the game plan was."Easy."  
He licked down from Roger's neck to his chest, focusing on the tiny, erect nipple, not biting, just sucking hard. Roger was moaning, shuddering with each one of Andy's licks and suckles; his hands grasped Andy's shoulders wildly. "God. Oh God. Harderyesplease." Andy complied, increasing the suction on the small bud, then moving to the other one. He stroked Roger's sides lightly a couple of times, and Roger twitched whenever he moved over a certain point in his waist, so he did it again and again, and Roger's periodical moans turned into whines.   
He was spread across Roger, rubbing against his thigh, Roger was pushing up against his stomach, his voice a rasp of need, and Andy could feel the wet hot slide of Roger's dick against him, fuckfuck. He lifted his head and leaned in for a kiss which Roger hungrily responded to, pressing Andy to him even closer, circling his hips, and swore again and again, moaning Andy's name.  
Roger allowed his knees to open further, allowing Andy between them, allowed his legs open further,and Andy could feel his stomach twisting, and he groaned, because Roger like that was sight. "God, you're gorgeous, so fucking gorgeous."   
Roger thrust forward against Andy, eagerly and more than a little desperately. "Come on."  
Andy panted. "You sure?"  
"Fuck it. Stop asking," His voice was a sob. "Pleaseplease. I'm about to explode."  
Okay then. Trying to get control of his senses, Andy pulled back to rise on all fours, , and touched Roger's shoulders. "Turn around?"  
Roger's eyes focused on him with a frown. "I want to see you"  
Andy eyes crinkled in a grin. "I'm going to take it slow, but not that slow, your head would bang against the bed like that, that would put a damper on things, turn to the side."   
Roger 's eyes flashed in understanding and he nodded. Andy reached for the lube next to the bed and poured some on his hands before settling behind Roger, and searched for a position that worked. He hitched one leg over Roger, and pulled his waist tightly against him, reaching behind him to mouth his neck and jaw, nuzzling softly. His hand slid down to cup Roger, earning a moan and a tremble, Roger, panting, pushed into his slick hand. "Ohh."   
"Good, baby?"  
"Yeah..."  
With his other hand, Andy reached out to run an exploring finger down Roger's cleft. It HAD been a long time, several months, at least. He moaned into Roger's neck, and circled with his finger. Roger shivered, and pushed back. "More?"  
"Andy." Roger crocked, and Andy could hear the smile in the voice. "You haven't been so careful in our first time, get on with it."  
Andy smiled against Roger's neck. "I don't recall that the first time I ever fucked you was such a smashing success, quite the opposite. Come on, it's been a fucking long while, we're going to take our time here." He pumped him a bit with his other hand, stretching to reach across his body, and simultaneously pushed one finger half way in. Roger, involuntarily, clenched and gave a little gasp which was only half pleasure. Andy refrained from saying I told you so, and instead rubbed Roger dick in small circles, and was rewarded as Roger pushed back and forth into his hand, and relaxed a little. Andy tucked his head in the crook of Roger's neck and watched Roger's face. His mouth was slack and eyes closed shut, his breathing labored. "You know." Andy said, groaning. "If we come out, we could do this all the time. We won't have to make special time to see each other, make arrangements to keep it a secret, we could do it all the time, no hiding, no planning, just – whenever we wanted.." After every word, he planted a kiss on a different part in Roger's neck.  
"God." Roger breathed. "Oh - we'd, God, never leave the bed to train, again." He bit his lip as Andy's finger delved deeper, in slow and deliberate in its motions. Roger reached out behind him to a sling a hand around Andy, pulling him closer.   
Andy chuckled. "What, you don't think Pierre would approve of sex as a form of work out?"  
Roger shifted his leg so Andy would have better access and groaned. "N-not quite. I'm good. More. Please."  
"Yeah?"  
"Yeah.oh-yeah."  
Andy swallowed, because those little voices Roger made went right shot right down his unattended dick and well *Fuck*. Slowly, he pushed another finger into Roger. Christ, he was tight, as if they've never done this before. Roger let out a whimper and clenched, and Andy stopped moving all together, leaning over Roger's shoulder to look at him. His eyes were shut in a frown, and there were eagles of sweat above his lip. "Shh." Andy murmured, as gently as he could. "Relax. Let yourself enjoy that."  
Roger's jaw was tense. "Giv-give me a second, don't move."   
"I have a better idea." He nuzzled Roger's neck and changed of his fingers the angle a bit, waiting for the enviable shudder. A tremor ran through Roger's body, he whimpered and shook, and pushed back against his hand. "Oh. oh God Oh. Go-ngh.."  
Andy hid his grin into Roger's shoulder because fucking hell, yeah. He twisted his fingers, and Roger inhaled loudly, and his spine arched back against Andy, throwing his head back against Andy's shoulder. Andy tilted his head and suckled on the bare expanse of neck. Roger gasped, and finally reached down to take himself in hand. Andy let him because he mostly wanted two hands for this, and thumbed lazily at Roger's balls. Roger's stomach contracted, and he pushed back against his hand and God. Just – God. Andy moaned, and ground against Roger's upper thigh, because been ages since he's done it too, and yeah. So good, so fucking good.  
"Rog," His voice shook. "God-Rog. Can I-"  
"God-godyes, hurry." Roger's eyes were closed, and he was pumping himself hard now, right on the verge of too hard, and he was panting.  
Carefully, Andy extracted his fingers, relishing on Roger's whine and the way he pushed back against him, then he wrapped to arms fully around Roger, and grabbed his wrist, keeping him from touching himself, smirking as Roger let out a frustrated moan. He spooned behind him, hip against hip, rubbing his dick against him, and pushed forward just a bit. Roger's mouth fell slack and open, and he made soft, breathy, needy voices. Fuckohfuck, he was turned on beyond belief. "Roger." He half sighed, half moaned Roger's name, and tilted Roger's head toward him, into a graceless, wild kiss.   
A moment afterwards, Roger shifted his leg, giving Andy both permission and access. Andy reached down, drizzled some of the lube onto his hand, gave himself a pull or two, and then slid in a bit. Roger groaned, and he stopped. Oh God. Roger was tight and there was a ring of fire around his dick and fuck, he could have, should have taken more care with the lube, maybe. He felt like he had no control whatsoever. Fuckfuckfuck. He wanted to take it slow and loving, but there was just no way. His hand tightened around Roger's waist, hard. "God. Te-tell me if it's good, babe-please just tell me."   
"Yeah..oh yeah, it's good." Roger whispered his name and then used some term of endearment in Swiss German, one of those he never used with him, not even in bed. Andy called Roger babe all the time, it just rolled casually off his tongue. But the very American nickname never came naturally for Roger, and he told him once it felt weird to use Swiss German with him, even if Andy did know the word, so it was always just his name. But he did use it now, and God, it shot straight to his heart. Andy buried his face in the warm neck, and rocked forward. "Yeah. Me too."  
"Yeahohyeah." Roger moaned in a strangled voice. "So good." He shivered. "Touch me."  
Andy complied, letting go of Roger's hand to allow him to brace himself against the wall in order to give Andy some leverage for the thrusting. Andy reached down to take hold of him again. Christ, Roger was hard and leaking and warm in his hand and just- nghhh. He thrust forward, taking care with the angle, and Roger let out a full sob now, too blitzed to care.   
Andy felt the contractions in his dick, and he sped up, both with the thrusting as well with his hand. There was no point in delaying this further, they were both right there on the brink.  
"Tou-touch your balls." Andy directed him, because no amount of thinking about break points was going to slow down this. "Come on."  
"Oh-oh yeah. Oh God. Yes." Roger moaned, and reached down, rubbing his balls hard. Andy watched him over Roger's shoulder, the way Roger played with the soft skin there, and their wrists rubbed together, and God that was hot too, to feel the Roger's rhythm, the uneven twirl of his hand.  
Andy bit his lip hard, and started rubbing Roger's dick harder, just rubbing an open palm on the head, altering it with shallow thrusts that clipped Roger's prostate every time. Roger howled. "Oh God, I'm..faster faster faster, God don't stop please don'tever stop. Please Please Please."  
He could feel it when Roger came, for he clenched so tightly around him, his vision whitened with it, and then he could feel it on his hand, those long warm spurts and the convolutions which followed, and above all Roger's voice as he sobbed out his name.  
"Ahhh, fuck." And there was really no stopping it now, and he thrust forward a couple of times, hard, and his teeth sank into Roger's neck because nghhhh, and he spasmed into Roger and spilled. Long and hard and fuckingGod. Could anything be hotter then this? He was aware he was crying out with it, but he did not care. He shuddered into Roger, grunting into his ear, and then collapsed on top of him gracelessly.   
Roger was face down into the pillows, Still panting harshly, still contracting around him. Christ.   
Andy allowed himself to go boneless, collapsing on top of Roger, lazily kissing his shoulder and neck, tasting his sweat. God, that was good, so fucking good.   
Roger was breathing heavily into the pillow, his body still quaking with the force of his orgasm, clumsily, his hands still shaky, he reached back to grab Andy's arms and to pull him even tighter against his sweaty back, Andy curled around him, then slowly lifted himself, pulling out, contend to just rest against him, his softening dick against Roger's ass. Roger groaned and shuddered at the parting, and Andy's hands curled around him as he settled back. "You okay?" Andy asked, his voice hoarse.  
"Ah-huh." Roger's eyes were closed, his voice was groggy and completely sated. Andy smiled, and planted a kiss against his jaw. "Don't you want me off you?"  
Roger's fingers ghosted against the soft skin of his upper arm."No- Not for a little while more, I can bear the weight, lie back down."  
Andy sighed in contentment, exhaustion setting in, affect of a mostly sleepless night. "Okay." He allowed his body to relax against Roger, and kissed his neck, then closed his eyes again, and allowed himself to nod off.


	10. Setbacks and Progress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following Roger and Mirka's big row, Severin and Mirka are still pressuring Roger to come out, and quickly. Roger continues to struggle. Andy is there to support him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Long delayed ninth installment of my "Forever Deuce" Series. After the computer ate a nearly completed draft about 6 months ago, re-writing was a hard task. 
> 
> Warnings: Don't know how it happened, but this fic ended up with a rather slight watersports kink. If you're bothered, well - look the other way and still read it, I couldn't help myself. This part was written without my aid, really! I promise you, nothing truly outrageous happens.
> 
> Oh, and comments, please. Good and bad.

“Nggggwhat?” Andy woke up with a start, his mouth dry. He had his arm slung around Roger, who was extremely restless in his sleep.  
“Rog?” Andy asked groggily, lifting his head a bit to catch a glance of Roger, whose face was turned away from him, half buried into the pillow. He moved his head against the pillow, agitated, and mumbled something in Swiss. Obviously caught in a bad dream.  
Andy smoothed over Roger’s shoulder, kneading it softly, wondering whether it would be enough to send Roger back into proper sleep, but Roger flinched away and trashed even worse. Andy sat up in bed, and bodily turned Roger to his back. He then moved a hand over Roger’s face, wiping sweat from his forehead. “Roger.” he said, and when Roger didn’t seem to hear him, His voice picked up a notch. “Roger.”  
Roger opened his eyes with a choked gasp, and stared blankly at Andy’s face. He sucked on air. Andy wasn’t convinced he had even registered his presence, and smoothed over his brow. “Rog. Shh-shh. Hey, you’re dreaming.””  
He watched Roger’s throat moving in a dry swallow as his eyes shifted around the dark room. He leaned closer, and repeated, still touching his face. “Babe, you’re in bed, dreaming. Wake up.”  
Finally, he saw Roger’s eyes focusing on his face, then closing in such an obvious relief that had made Andy frown harder. “Andy.” Roger reached out to Andy’s hand and pressed it to his face, Andy could feel the scratch of his stubble and Roger’s rapid breathing against the palm of his hand. “Hey.” Andy frowned, and caressed Roger’s forehead with his thumb. “It’s okay.”  
After a moment, Roger slowly - and reluctantly, Andy thought - removed Andy’s hand from his face, and looked away. “Sorry- that’s... shit. sorry. I’m okay.”  
Andy dialed back the eye-roll. “What do you have to be sorry about, a nightmare?“  
Roger didn’t reply, he sat with with a groan, and put his head between his knees for a moment. “You nauseous?” Andy asked, putting a hand on the nape of Roger’s neck. “If you are, maybe we should get your head looked at.”  
“Maybe it’s a good idea,” Roger said, without raising his head. “But not because I hit my head.” Andy frowned. “What?”  
“Never mind.” Roger sighed “I’m just not awake yet.” He raised his head, stared blankly at the dark room for a moment, then glanced at Andy. “I have to wash my face.” He staggered out of bed, and headed to the bathroom.  
Andy sighed, and got up after him, stopping at the door as he watched Roger throw cold water on his face and wipe the sleep crust from his eyes. He watched Andy through the mirror for a second, then turned, and repeated. “I’m fine.”  
“No, you’re not. What did you dream about?”  
Roger shivered, and turned his head away, and Andy approached him. “Hey - Tell me what you dreamed about.”  
Roger swallowed, then said blankly. “I don’t remember it too clearly. Move.” He gestured with his head. “I gotta to pee.”  
Andy sighed and got out of his way, and Roger moved over to the toilet. He glanced back at Andy and scratched his head in annoyance. “And, do you mind?”  
Andy frowned. “A little, yeah. We were talking, you want to take a leak, go ahead, I’m not disturbing you, and it’s not like I haven’t seen you peeing before.”  
Roger frowned. “What, are you serious? Let me have some peace for a second.”  
When Andy didn’t move, Roger shook his head then turned back to the toilet. He stood there for a moment, sliding his bare foot back and forth on the floor and muttered something. Then he groaned, bemused. “It’s not really helping that you’re staring at me, I don’t understand what you’re trying to accomplish. I want some space, I honestly can’t focus like this.”  
Andy walked in the bathroom, his face tight. “What I’m trying to *accomplish*? Oh fuck you. Don’t shut me out. You want space? It’s hard for me to see how you can take *more* space. I’m not letting you get away with that. We’re making progress one minute, then taking two steps back the next. It’s not about letting you piss in private, which by the way, is a weird demand from someone who pisses for and in front of the Anti Doping Agency about 20 times a year, it’s about you using that to kick me out of here so you wouldn’t have to talk about what’s eating at you. Here-” He said angrily, turning the tap in the sink and letting the water gush out. “The sound of water usually does the trick when you have company watching.”  
At the sound of the running water Roger’s control wavered. He cursed and hurriedly turned back to the toilet. Andy, annoyed, considered for half a second, then walked to the toilet, standing alongside him. Roger stared at Andy. “What are you doing?”  
“Yeah, you know what, I kinda gotta go too, make some space, you don’t want me to spray.”  
Roger stared at him incredulously, then he looked down and muttered something, trying to hurry the process, looking anywhere but at Andy.  
Christ, not good. Andy sighed. “Roger” he said softly, reaching out to touch Roger’s cheek. Roger turned his head back, his eyes guarded and wary.”What do you want”  
”A kiss. Fucking cooperate. Don’t make me feel like a perv.” And then he leaned forward to kiss him.  
Roger, stunned, didn’t move as Andy kissed him softly and carefully, making sure neither of them accidentally turned around, which would have caused quiet a mess.  
After a long pause of hesitation, Roger made a small sound and responded, opening his mouth to Andy.  
A wave of lust coiled in Andy, and he shivered and sighed into Roger's mouth as the kiss intensified, a moment later he swallowed hard and pushed Roger slightly away.“Wow, Christ. Okay -Oh I really can't like that." He flushed red hot, and turned around to try to finish, aroused. “Shit.”  
Roger, already done, glanced down, and smirked a little when realized Andy was struggling. “Well, I think our intimacy levels are definitely up”, he deadpanned. “Do you have something to share with me, a fetish I didn’t know about?”  
"Shut the fuck up." Andy muttered, stung and embarrassed.  
Roger was still smiling. “What did you think was going to happen when you kissed me?”  
Andy, his face grimacing with the attempt to finish, then relaxing as he was done, grumbled. “I just wanted to distract you a little.”  
“Well. Mission accomplished.” He slide his hand deliberately down Andy’s stomach, stopping just underneath his navel. “Want me to do something about that?”  
Andy swallowed as Roger’s fingers coiled a bit, right on the edge of his pubic hair. His stomach hallowed at the touch. Roger’s palm was warm and moist from sleep.  
“Maybe.” He then glanced down and observed with a frown. “You’re not hard.”  
Roger blinked. “So? We had a lot of sex in the past few days, including a couple of hours ago, I’m a bit washed up..” He laughed a little, like it was nothing. “I’ll get there eventually.”  
Andy frowned as his eyes narrowed. “Right.” He removed Roger’s hand from his stomach then moved his hands around Roger's neck, thumbs in shoulder blades, and pressed slightly. "I don’t think you’re washed up, I don’t think you’re in the mood at all, you’re faking it, and not doing a great job at it. You’re using sex to change the subject, so you wouldn’t have to talk to me about what you’ve dreamed about.”  
The smile faded from Roger's face as he shrugged. "It was just a bad dream." He then sighed, and leaned his forehead against Andy's wordlessly. Andy hugged him. "Right." He said. "Just a bad dream."  
"Tighter." Roger said softly, and Andy complied. Squeezing Roger just on the verge of too hard, naked skin on naked skin.  
"Yeah." Roger half sighed, half breathed. "Like that." He melted into Andy, who sighed and rubbed his back, saying nothing, letting Roger speak.  
“I just - I dreamed about telling my parents”  
“Didn’t go well?”  
“Uh-um.” Roger shook his head against Andy’s shoulder.”Not really.”  
“Roger, it’s a dream, it’s the embodiment of your worse case scenerio.”  
Roger sighed. “I really - “ He sighed. “Please don’t make me go over again on why it would actually happen..” His body tensed unbelievably in Andy's arms as he raised his head, his expression was haunted. "They would never accept it, or forgive me, I just have to get ready for that."  
Andy wavered, because empty platitudes were not what Roger needed to hear. "At first, maybe, yeah, they'll be disappointed and hurt and angry. But for the long haul, Rog? I refuse to believe that. They love you, and you've made them proud of you all your life."  
"They were proud of whom they thought I was, and no – I'm not exactly the same person, you know I'm not. It's not a matter of sexual orientation, I have a- a *life* they don't know of and a partner they don't know, and it's not like I thought I was lonely before, they thought things were perfect."  
Andy held Roger's face. "They weren't though. They weren't perfect. If you can explain it to them, they'd understand." He paused to gather his thoughts, then said." Look,we'll figure out a way to tell them, okay? There will be plan. I don't know what it is yet, but there will be one." His heart clenched at Roger's expression and he said gruffly. “Roger - do you want me to talk to Mirka again and see if I can get her to change her mind? I can do that - if that what you want."  
Roger frowned. "No! Look - If it wasn't for that dream we wouldn't be having this conversation again.” He exhaled. “I've already said to you that we should go ahead and come out. I want us, I want this," He gestured between them " - Not just between tournaments, not just part time. You don’t need to to ‘sell’ this to me anymore, I’ve decided. Can we just - be consistent about that, okay? I can’t do this if you keep changing your mind.”  
Andy rubbed at his face. "I'm trying to be- I don't know what I'm trying to be, I want to do the right thing. I’m trying to protect you, I guess. Would be easier for me to stop doing that if you didn't look so fucking miserable all the time." Andy observed harshly. "I feel like it’s my fault, and coming out wasn’t even my fucking idea."  
Roger touched his face softly. "I'm not changing my mind, Andy. Just because I'm scared doesn't mean I'm going to change my mind about coming out. Don’t - try so hard to solve my issues."  
Andy frowned, and Roger insisted. "I need your support, but if I can't tell you when I'm scared to death without you assuming I'm backing out on something we’ve already agreed on then it's going to be really hard to communicate. I've made up my mind; I've made peace with it. I'm not going to back out from everything I told you last night. I want us full time - not part time - I need you to act like you know this and have confidence that I know this too, because otherwise…shit."  
Roger shook his head, because his emotions were so close to the surface right now. "I know I've not exactly inspired confidence in my ability to deal with things in the last few days, but have some faith in me, otherwise I really - I really can't do this. I need you to trust me."  
Andy took a deep long look at him, then nodded with a clogged throat. "Alright." He shook his head. "Okay. Okay. I totally hear you, there.”  
He paused to consider. “Fine. Lets me just say that I'll offer you every support I can possibly give you when it's time to face the music, but I won't ask you whether you want me to talk to Mirka again. You've made it clear that you've made up your mind, I'm happy that you did, I am happy that this is your decision, I won't question your commitment to it."  
Roger shuffled his feet and let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you."He grimaced guiltily. "Look, Andy...I know I'm making it really hard on you. I’m asking for a lot, for you to be both supportive and encouraging all at the same time. I don’t mean to be that- high maintenance.” He snorted a little bit.  
Andy let out a short laugh, which betrayed more pain then he was willing to admit. "It just feels like I'm screwing it up all the time." A lump settled at the back of his throat which wasn’t there before, and he had to take a gulping breath to avoid it. Then Roger had his hand against his cheek, and the thumb was tracing his face and it wasn’t helping that lump dissipate at all.  
“Can I tell you something and you won’t take it the wrong way?” Roger asked him.  
“What?” That came out less choked than he thought it would.  
"Sometimes - it just feels like we still have a long way to go, as a couple."  
Andy looked at him steadily. "We do. That’s not a huge shock, I guess. Try to calculate how much time in the past several years we’ve actually spent together. How many nights we actually shared together in a row? It doesn’t amount to a hell of a lot.”  
He leaned his forehead against Roger's. "There are a couple of things we still need to learn about each other, and a couple of things we still need to learn how to say to each other, that's fine. That's part of why coming out is a good thing, babe."  
Roger considered, then nodded. "What do you think you need to learn to tell me?"  
"Right now?"  
"Yeah."  
"You reek and need a shower."  
Roger laughed. "You're not exactly fresh either. Join me?"

 

  
**********************

 

“Hmmm. Hotter.”  
“like that?”  
“Yeah.Good.”Roger sighed sighed underneath the water, as he and Andy made quick work out of washing one another, but when Roger tentatively moved his head under the running water, he pulled back with a wince and a hiss. "Shit."  
Andy rolled his eyes and put the sponge down. He cocked his finger. "Come here, head back." He removed the shower head from the wall, adjusted the flow of the water, and washed Roger's head gently. Using just a tiny bit of Shampoo, cleaning the hair, but avoiding applying pressure on his scalp. Roger's face twisted with a frown, expecting pain – then relaxed when none was coming. He was still as Andy washed his head. Eventually Andy placed the shower head back in place, so the water gently cascaded over them both and wrapped two arms around Roger's shoulders and upper torso from behind, leaning back against the wall. "Hmmm." He squeezed hard, pulling Roger against him.  
Roger sighed, then tilted his head back all the way against Andy's shoulder, so that the water dropped on his face, his lips opening a bit. Andy watched the wet, tanned expanse of neck, and bit on his lower lip. He ran his hands across Roger’s chest, and squeezed one nipple gently, Roger sighed, and opened his eyes. He tilted his head toward Andy. “The offer was on the table 10 minutes ago, unless you’re reconsidering, don’t get me worked up.”  
Andy laughed a little and removed his hand.“Sorry. I just think that we should maybe eat something and something with our day, and not - you know - jump back to bed. And to be honest - maybe we should like take it easy for a day.Stuff kind of burned earlier.”  
“Probably, yeah.” Roger suddenly frowned. “Is that the phone ringing?”  
“It’s mine, I think. Hang on.” Andy jumped out of the shower. The phone was on the bed. He looked at the name. “Mirka.” He said, hearing Roger’s light steps behind him. He turned to Roger, and then answered, sitting on the bed, aware of the puddle pooling beneath his fit. “Morning, Mir.”  
“Hi Andy.” Her voice was soft. “Are you two awake?”  
“It’s past noon. But - yeah, just barely.” He glanced at Roger. “Some of us had an early morning, or so I hear.” Roger cocked an eyebrow, but didn’t interrupt.  
There was a long pause. “It got - out of hand. Is he alright?”  
Andy sighed. He wasn’t going to reply with Roger standing there, listening, and he didn’t want to talk about Roger behind his back, either. “Why are you calling?”  
“We all need to talk, I thought- maybe over lunch. When was the last time you’ve eaten anything?”  
Andy could feel his mouth watering instantly. “Fair point. Hang on.”  
He looked up at Roger, whose eyes squinted in a frown. “Rog. Food, at Mirka’s?”  
He could see Roger blinking his lips, but he looked uncertain.  
Andy cocked an eyebrow, and seeing the acceptance in Roger’s eyes, he then told Mirka. “Well, the least you can do is to feed us. And yeah, talking sounds good for afterwards.”  
Mirka frowned. “Does Roger agree with that?”  
“I can hear his stomach gurgling from 4 ft away. We’re going to be there in 15 minutes.”  
The moment he hung up the phone, he raised his eyebrows at Roger. “Lets go do this.”

 

***********

  
Roger’s hand froze half the way to the handle of the adjoined door between Mirka’s apartment and his. He paused, then glanced at Andy. “I guess I should get into the habit of knocking, right?”  
Andy cocked an eyebrow. “You didn’t till now?”  
“Um. No. I have a key. I just used it.”  
Andy rolled his eyes. “Then yeah, You should get into the habit of knocking. SHE knocks when she walks into your apartment.”  
“Yeah. That’s because she doesn’t want to see us having sex in the living-room or something.”  
Andy bit on his lip. “And you think she and Luthi were holding hands until now?”  
Roger visibly blanched at that. “Thanks for that mental image right now.”  
“Just knock on the Goddamn door, Roger.”  
Roger sighed and knocked. Mirka opened the door a moment afterwards.  
“Hi.” She said, looking quite remorseful, and tired.  
“Hi.” Roger replied awkwardly, he radiated tension.  
Andy rolled his eyes. “Okay, You two do awkward incredibly well. Can we can in?”  
Mirka moved out of the doorway to let them both in. Severin was busy in the kitchen, and didn’t turn when they entered. From the methodical way he was cutting that tomato and the tenseness of his shoulders, Andy could see that he was pretty pissed off, an alarming look for someone Andy never even seen raising his voice.  
They were all silent for a moment, then Roger swallowed on his saliva. “Wow, This smells really nice, what did you make?  
“Cheese Rosti, with bacon and onions.”  
Roger quirked a surprised half smile. “Wow. This is an amazing amount of sucking up on your part, you never let me touch any of that.”  
“What?” Andy asked. “Is it really fattening?”  
“Yeah. Traditional Swiss food. Really heavy. Nothing a tennis player should get anywhere near. Really good though.”  
Mirka smiled a little, relaxing somewhat. “Roger, Andy - go sit, have wine. We’ll finish here?”  
Roger looked around and rubbed at his forehead. “Don’t you need help with anything?”  
Mirka rolled her eyes. “Like I ever needed your help around my kitchen, and he’s even worse” She gestured toward Andy.  
“Hey, that’s just trash talk now” Andy said with an easy smile. “I can cook. You know. Stuff. I’m better than Roger, in any event.”  
“Being better than Roger in cooking is NOT an accomplishment.” Mirka teased.  
Roger, however, wasn’t joking. “Well. I never really - needed to learn.” He tilted his head and said softly. “You need to give me a crash course, maybe. Before you - um, leave.”  
Mirka sighed. “I’m really not going anywhere yet, and it’s too soon for this conversation.” She gestured toward the dinning room. ‘Come on, go sit and let us finish things in the kitchen.”  
Behind Roger’s back, Andy nodded to her, placed his hand on the small of Roger’s back, and gave him a little shove. “Come on, lets have some wine.”  
Both of them sat down, exchanging looks of discomfort. Andy watched Roger watching Severin and Mirka interact around the kitchen. Severin was mixing something in the pan, he tasted it, then frowned, and let Mirka taste too, holding the spoon to her lips. Mirka nodded absentmindedly. Roger looked stricken, and looked away, but not at Andy. Andy sighed inwardly, this would be a long and tough adjustment period.  
When Mirka and Severin put the dishes on the table, they both sat down, and all four exchanged glances. Andy poured both of them from the wine. Red, rich and expensive. There was no suggestion of a toast. Luthi took Roger’s plate, then slapped a huge amount of the dish on it, then shoved the plate down Roger’s direction. “Rodge,” Roger raised his eyes to meet his friend’s. “Eat. You look like you can eat a horse.” Roger reached out for the plate. “I really could - it’s actually been - I don’t know, maybe a day since I’ve eaten anything substantial.” He glanced at Andy. “Same for you, actually.”  
“Well, eat already, then” Said Andy, as he dug into the food himself.

 

******

 

Wisely, they focused on eating. After the third helping of the Rosti, and two slices of rich chocolate cake, Andy felt he could go right back to sleep, that’s how full he was.  
Roger leaned back with a groan, and unbuttoned a button in his jeans. “God. I’m so stuffed I feel like I’m going to explode.”  
He took a sip from his coffee and looked up and Mirka and Severin, his eyes shifting between them, before focusing on Severin. “Come take a walk with me.”  
Andy lifted his head at that, and Mirka protested. “Roger, this wasn’t what we agreed on.”  
“I don’t know what you agreed on, but this it doesn’t have to be a four-way conversation. Plus, I already talked to you, I talked to Andy, me and Sev need to have a word, now, I think, and I need some fresh air, I ate way too much.”  
“It’s snowing, Roger.”  
“Last time I checked, we were Swiss. The snow won’t kill us” He cocked his eyebrow toward Severin “You’re coming?”  
Severin gave Mirka a reassuring look. “It’s okay. It’s a good idea.”Roger glanced at Andy, and relaxed when he saw nothing but approval in his eyes, he smiled a little as he pulled his coat on “Don’t finish this cake without me.”

 

Once they were gone, Mirka rounded at Andy. “Did you know he was going to do that?”  
Andy shook his head. “No, but they should talk privately, it’s a good decision.”  
“I just don’t want them to fight”  
Andy snorted. “The worst thing that can happen is that they let out some steam, no fists will be raised there. If either of them has any interest in continue their coaching relationship, then they need to talk this out. You can accuse Roger of insensitivity or blindness, Mirka - but he never lied to you. You two went behind his back for a long time. It’s a difficult thing to get over, he would have trust you two with his life.”  
“Severin doesn't see it this way, he’s disappointed that he didn’t come out to him years ago.”  
“A. You were a part of that facade. B. That’s just not comparable and you know it.”  
Mirka sighed. “I know we’ve made mistakes, believe me - I know this. I hope we can work it out.”  
“So do I, because I’m telling you right now that the ramifications if you can’t would be - devastating. I can’t do for him what you do, I have my own career to manage, he can get by without a coach for a while, but Severin was more to him than that. And he clearly needs you. If you’re not around, he’s going to have to look for a replacement to do all the things you do, which is going to be close to impossible, definitely in the time frame until the season starts.”  
Mirka twirled a lock on her finger agitatedly and shook her head. “It won’t come to that. Neither of us wants that.”  
“It might, if your time table continues to be so unbending, do you even realize what you’re asking of us?”  
Mirka sighed. “This is why I wanted for the four of us to talk, because I have to convince Sev. I hope they can reach some kind of mutual agreement..”  
\--------  
Outside, Roger readjusted his earmuffs and inhaled on the cold clean air. Snow was lightly falling, and the park was all but deserted.  
He glanced sheepishly at Severin. “If you’re freezing, we could go back.”  
“No, I’m good.” Severin pulled his coat around himself. “how’s your head”  
“Could have been better, but its manageable with the stuff I’m taking.”  
After a moment of silence Roger said. “I honestly don’t know what to say to you.” He tucked his hair behind his ears, then turned to him. “Do you love her?”  
Severin’s eyes widened a little bit. “Roger, we wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”  
“Why didn’t you tell me that before?”  
“Why did you wait an entire *decade* to tell me you were gay?”  
“Because I was afraid of your reaction, I told you that.”  
“Well, so was I. Roger. What did you want me to say. “Oh, you’re gay, good. So, can I ask your girlfriend out now? come on. “ He shook his head. “She was nothing but a close friend for years, I had no idea if she even looked at me this way. 80% of our conversation had something to do with you, and that’s not exactly relationship material.” He looked away. “I needed to figure out what I wanted, then what Mirka wanted. And frankly, I thought you’d put roadblocks in our way. I didn’t think you’d let her go. I just didn’t want to talk to you just then, it was too soon.”  
Hurt, Roger turned away. “Maybe you really don’t know me, if you think I would do that.” He shook his head. “Had I know... had I known, that you two have feelings for each other.. I might have done things differently. I love you both, I would never want you to ruin your lives just to make me happy, do you really think I’m this self involved, or what?”  
Severin sighed. And Roger turned to him sharply, eyes widening. “Wow. Okay. Come on. Say it, you have a lot on your chest, apparently.”  
Severin rubbed at his face. “Okay. I think you took advantage of your friendship, her love and her loyalty to you. You went after Andy, so you obviously needed love, you needed physical closeness - why the hell did you think that she didn’t need those things?”  
Roger stared at him, wounded, then looked away. “You don’t - understand.”  
He wiped at his face. “I didn’t - I was - I was content with what - with what we had. The thing with Andy,I didn’t - search for it. I didn’t even know he was ga... if he hadn’t overheard a conversation I had with Mirka and decided to come out... I never would have known, and I never would have done anything about it. I would have lived my lif...”He buried his face in his hands, then took a deep breath. “There were men before Andy, but they - it was very rare, and - well, it was never anything more than one night, and always with people with even more to lose than I did. I would have been happy to live my life with Mirka, if it wasn’t for Andy. I didn’t set out to...” He took a deep, gulping breath. “I was blind. Okay? I screwed up, I admit that. I told Mir that too, but if I had known that you had feeling toward each other I would have acted differently.”  
Severin’s expression didn’t soften. “You any Andy been together for a long time, when exactly were you planning to tell her ‘You’re free to find someone you love too’?”  
Roger shuffled his feet, and looked away into the distance. The park was deserted. “I don’t know.” He whispered. “I should have. If you want to think I did it because I’m selfish, then maybe you’re right. I was scared of losing her, I was afraid of losing her support and advice, and I was afraid of coming out. Still am, you have no idea how much.” He exhaled slowly, and watched as the cold wind frosted his breath. “I don’t want to lose you either and I feel like I have already, even though it’s not really your business, and I couldn’t know I was getting in your way. It’s not fair what you’re doing. If I’ve wronged Mirka, and I agree that I have, that’s between me and her, you’re not part of that. I know it’s a ‘rag on Roger’ sort of week, but I don’t appreciate having to apologize to you, as it has nothing to do with you.”  
Severin sighed. “You don’t owe me an apology, you owe her.”  
“I already did. And even if I screwed up, is this a punishment? To come out to everyone in a month? I can’t do that, I won’t do that. I have to tell my parents, friends, sponsors, fans, the list doesn’t end, and Andy needs to do the same, only his family knows already, which makes it easier on him, but only marginally so. I can’t do that in the time frame you’ve given me, not with a Slam smack in the middle of it, and I’m playing preparation tournaments too. Unless you really want to see me go home in the first round. Then I could really put my focus where it should be - coming out as soon as possible so you could take Mirka to a night in town?!”  
Severin bit his lip. “We just feel like we’ve waited long enough and put our lives on hold long enough, best to get it done with before beginning of season, it wouldn’t get easier afterwards. You rather do this before Roland Garros, or in the states, where they probably least tolerant?”  
“I rather not do it this month!”  
He looked at Severin, and his eyes glistened. “Look, I can’t. You guys want my blessing, right? Well, then I’m going to need a little more time.”  
Severin eyes narrowed. “We want your blessing, it’s not required.”  
Roger crossed his arms against his chest. “Or, or what? You’d out me?”  
Severin shook his head. “This is the last thing I want to do.”  
Roger glared at him. “When the press asks me whether I wish you guys the best, I’d like to be able to say yes, wholeheartedly so. This won’t happen if I need to speak with the press about it in a couple weeks time. I can’t drop this on my parents like that, I can’t. Them having to answer everyone questions before digesting it themselves. It would be tough enough as it is. You want to go public in Switzerland? Fine, good luck with that if people think you went behind my back. Think about it for a moment and decide what you want to do. We both have something to lose, and we need each other. I need time and your blessing, you need mine. I hoped that our friendship would be enough for you to respect my wish on that one, and maybe have a little understanding to how I feel right now, but if it isn’t...”  
He wiped at his face, trying to keep his voice from cracking. “I’m going back, if that’s all. I don’t think there’s anything left to discuss. I don’t think we can possibly work together after that, you don’t seem to be interested in that and frankly I don’t either. So that answers another question I had.” His voice was hollow as he turned away.  
Severin made a grab for his arm. “Roger.”  
Roger yanked his arm loose, but turned back. “What?!”  
Severin sighed. “I-” he shook his head. “Look, maybe you’re right, I have no right to be mad at you. I just know that I am. I’m mad at you and I’m mad at Mir, too, a little. Feeling lied to and deceived to that degree isn’t fun. Maybe you can relate a little now, even though me and Mirka and has been together for a little over a month, while you two lied to me for years and years.”  
“So, you’re getting back at me? I didn’t tell you because I was afraid of your reaction, then the whole thing snow-balled, it was too late to tell. That’s the only explanation I can give you. I’m sorry if it isn’t enough for you. And I’m sorry if it prevented you from telling Mirka how you feel earlier, but it’s not like I did it to hurt you.” He sighed, and shook his head. “Look at how you’re reacting. And think about how everyone else would react, and maybe you would have some fucking sympathy.”  
Severin rubbed his forehead tiredly. “Roger, it’s not that I’m not.” He tentatively reached to touch Roger’s shoulder only to have Roger push him physically away.“Don’t fucking touch me. “ Roger was panting.  
Severin took a step back, guardedly. “Roger, what the hell.”  
“I’m not going to fucking beg you, that’s just not going to happen. I will do what I need to do on a reasonable timetable, within a couple of months, depends on everything, depends on Andy, too. And it won’t be for you, but for myself, because I obviously need to do it. If you and Mirka want to risk going publicly out before that, good luck. If you want to out me, fine, good luck selling that to Mirka, it won’t work. I still know her better than you do. Now. Leave me the fuck alone. No words can begin to describe how disappointed I am, and how much you’ve hurt me.”  
With those words, he turned around and headed back to the house. Half way there, he turned to Severin. “And - I don’t actually have to say the words, do I?”

 

*****************

Mirka and Andy both jumped from the sound of the door slamming in the other apartment. They looked at each other, and Andy blinked. “Maybe I was overly optimistic.”  
Then the door opened, and Severin walked in, then sank on a chair, and looked at Mirka a little guiltily. “What the fuck?” Andy asked.  
Severin took a deep breath. “That didn’t go well, and I think I just got fired.”  
Andy stood up. "What exactly is your problem? He’s not asking for anything but a little more time. Mind you, I’m not that excited to come out in Australia, either. Not that any of you give a fuck.”  
“Andy, that’s not true.” Mirka said.  
Andy advanced at Severin. “He reached out, and you did what? Shut the door in his face? I thought you were going to be reasonable, I guess I was wrong and I honestly don’t get it.”  
Mirka looked at Severin, who rubbed at his face, deep in thought. Andy snorted. “You don’t have a good answer either. Okay. I’m going to talk to Roger, and you two work something out. You can maybe force him to do it your way, but you’ll have to deal with consequences, and for what, a couple more weeks or months?”  
Severin stood. “I know him. He’s scared witless and he’s going to put it off forever. I care very deeply for him, but him coming out to me and Pierre was a total accident, if he wasn’t groggy on pain killers for his back after that match in the Masters Cup he never would have said anything, and he couldn’t look me in the eye for a week afterwards. I don’t think he’s ever going to tell his parents, not unless there’s a gun to his head. It’s going to put everyone’s life on hold if I won’t set some boundaries.”  
Andy was aghast. “So you’re answer for this is pressure him even more? Do you want to see him snap, or what?”  
“Believe me, It’s the last thing I want to do, but I don’t see another way to get him to act.”  
“Again, could have fooled me.” Andy looked at Mirka. “And you’re going along with this? Are you fucking insane?”

“So this is what it’s all about?”  
The three of them turned as the door opened, and Roger entered. flushed from anger and cold. “You think I won’t do it?”  
Severin nodded. “It’s part of it.” He sighed. “And maybe I’m being a bit..Roger, I don’t mean to be a bastard. I really don’t. It’s important to me this isn’t delayed too much, and I can’t promise that my feelings toward Mirka won’t show, or that we’re going to kill ourselves to be discreet. I don’t want to hid, and I don’t want to be the person who outs you, either.”  
Roger grimaced. “You mean you don’t want to fucking try.”  
He stood in front of Severin. “Look. This is my suggestion. Take it or leave it, and then - as Andy said, what you do is on you. I’ll prove I’m not delaying things, and you’ll give me my fucking two months, and an extra one if I need it. Deal?”  
Severin glanced at Mirka, then looked at Roger. “Prove how?”  
Andy looked at Roger. “Um, yeah, I kinda want to know that too.”

Roger took his cell out of his pocket, then looked at the time. “What time is it in Cleavland?”  
Andy blinked. ‘Um, bout 6 hours earlier. Like sevenish in the morning.Roger, why...”  
Roger took a deep breath, and then exhaled loudly, then dialed on his phone, and held it to his ear. He waited a little while, then frowned in confusion. “Hello...oh, Isabella? is that you?...Did I wake you...oh you’re playing Angrybirds in bed? With your dad’s phone? Oh, He’s asle...” He sighed. “Well, don’t wake him. Yeah, sweetie. My vacation is going well. You what? You saw on the news in the morning that I was in the hos...” He turned toward Andy, his eyes alarmed. “No don’t worry. I’m fine, I had a stupid accident, that’s all. No, I fell coming out of the shower, hit my head, but I’m okay now...I don’t know when I’m going to see you next, Indian wells, right? Oh, your mom said you could come to Australia this year? Second week only, huh? Okay, I will try to make it there, you know. It’s not easy. Yeah, I can hear your dad, put him on, and don’t play so much angrybirds, okay? Yeah, you too. Tony. Hi. No calm down I’m fine. No, really. I’m home, no. I was- it was last night, was in the hospital yeah. I fell. I hit my head. No, I slipped on a wet floo...What was Andy doing the...how do you know he was...”

Roger looked at Andy helplessly, Andy shrugged. “It’s a long story. Yeah. Never mind that now, look. I need a favor. A big one, you hear? I need you to get on a plane and come down here. I know it’s off season and you’re a long way away.. I’m sorry I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t important. No, no, I’m perfectly healthy, I swear.”  
  
He let out a groan. “Tony. I need you not to ask questions and to get on a fucking plane right now, okay? Promise me. No, I can’t tell you what it is about, I have to tell you in person. *Tony*. I said no questions asked, I meant it. Do that for me, just get on a plane!”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a very long break.... another chapter of my rather abandoned story.

Twenty-four hours later, When the doorbell Rang, Roger glanced at Andy, who took his cue to disappear inside the house. Roger took a deep breath, and opened the door. His eyes widened when he saw Tony as well as Mary-Jo standing there. “I didn’t think you’d come too.”  
The elegant brunette frowned at him, but kissed his cheek. She was tall enough not to tip-toe. “What, are you serious Roger? What did you expect? After *that* phone call?”   
Roger moved out of their way to let them in, and glanced at Tony. The older American looked tired and harassed, and didn’t waste time to cut to the chase as soon as he was inside the apartment.  “What is this bullshit I  heard on the news? Andy Roddick was here to discuss a series of exhibitions I know nothing about, and you slipped coming out of the shower or some fucked up fabricated shit like that? And not a word to me until a day later when the story was on every goddamn website?! And then you want me to come to Switzerland in person to tell me something you can’t talk to me on the phone about? What the hell is it all about? If you made me come all this way to Switzerland to fire me, Roger, I would be very pissed off.”   
Roger stood there, staring at Tony blankly, he didn’t know how to begin. Mary Jo gave him the look-over. “Are you alright? Did you really hurt yourself? You look deathly pale.”   
Roger shook his head slowly. “No, I  mean - yeah, I had minor a concussion, but - I’m fine,I just need to take it easy for a week or two. Look, I’m sorry I’ve made you come all this way.”   
Tony rubbed at his face. “Roger. I  just don’t understand what’s going on.”   
Roger looked away, then back at him. “I know. Can - can we sit? I want to try and explain.”   
Tony and Mary-Jo looked at each other, then Tony took his seat on the couch and looked at Roger expectantly. Mary-Jo looked around. “Where’s Mirka? I’m really sort of worried about you two.”   
Roger moved uneasily and pleaded. “Look, this is going to go easier if you’d just let me - talk - and stop interrupting with questions. It’s hard enough as it is.”   
Tony spread his hands. “We’re listening. I’m not sure I want to hear this, but I’m listening. Fucking Christ.”   
Roger looked at them, then stood up, and walked away toward the window. He looked at the city spread beneath him, as Tony and Mary-Jo looked at each other helplessly, confused. Just as Tony was about to urge him to speak again, Roger turned. “I’m-I’m not exactly who you think I am.” His face were white. “I’m...I haven’t been honest with you.”   
Tony, ever the impatient man, urged. “Regarding?”   
“Me. My life.” He closed his eyes and licked his lips, his mouth was dry. “I- I don’t know how to explain this. Or where to begin, so I will just say this.”   
He took a huge gulp of breath, then said quickly , swallowing on his words. “I’m...” For a moment he debated how to say this, then blurted out. “I’m gay.”   
There was a moment of silence, before Tony rolled his eyes. “Fine. Okay. For a second I thought I was going to hear a superman joke. Your sense of humor is really grating on my nerves. Honest to God. I’m tired and cranky and this was my vacation you fucked up, so God Dammit Roger, what is it really?   
Roger didn’t move a muscle, he stood there, his back against the window, his eyes closed against the stinging, bubbling shame of it.   
“Tony.” Mary-Jo said warningly, giving Roger a very long look. “He’s - he’s not joking, look at him.”   
Roger shook his head, unable to speak, his shoulders were drawn in a harsh line. Tony turned his head sharply toward her. “What? Of course he’s jokin-what are you-oh.” Then he turned his head to Roger again, unable to miss Roger’s rigid expression. He stared at Roger, whose hands were balled into fists, white at the knuckles.   
Mary-Jo looked between the two men, then got up and went up to Roger, who was standing with his back pressed to the wall. “Roger?”   
He opened his eyes  as she took his hands in hers. “Can you please try to explain this?”   
“No.” He blurted out. “I can’t. You’re just going to have to take my word that I was always like that.” He blurted out. “I didn’t mean to - nobody knew, except for Mirka. She knew, I never-  I never lied to her, she’s always known. We were, we were...”   
“You were what?!” Tony said, his voice rising. “What were you, for fuck’s sake?  Roger, I don’t understand. Please - just help me understand.”   
Roger shook his head. “Look - Mir and I - we’ve very close, I love her very much and she loves me, but it was never - more.”   
Tony stared at him. “It was never more? It was - never MORE? How can that b-Roger, are you sure you know what you’re saying?”   
Roger let out a huge sigh. “Tony...I know it’s unfair of me to ask, but don’t make this harder than it has to be. Don’t make me hit you upside the head with it. Just accept what I’m saying as fact.”   
Tony stammered.”I don’- understand. You and Mirka, all those years. How can that be - I’ve seen you, I’ve been around you two, it looked real enough to me - I’ve - Look, maybe you just got some weird idea in your head. Some early - alright, ten years early - midlife crisis. It happens. Maybe you spent too much time in the sun this year.”   
The expression Roger gave him was almost pitying. He smiled slightly. “Tony. It’s not an idea I ‘got in my head’. Really, it isn’t. I’m not fourteen. I know - myself. Who I am. Mirka and I, It’s complicated. She’s much more than a friend to me, but she’s not..” He flushed. “A lover. It was never like that between us. We tried once, at the very very beginning but - it was useless.”   
Tony just reeled back from the shock of it, as reality sank in. “You two were always - none-expressive. I attributed that to- to - extreme Swissness, I guess.”   
Roger smile curved just so. “Extreme Swissness?”   
Tony shrugged. “Certain European aloofness,  I don’t know. Doesn’t really go with the rest of your personality, but she’s a little different.  I’m sorry Roger - I just don’t - believe that. I don’t. Do you expect me - how the HELL do you expect me to..what were you thinking lying abo-” He turned around and braced two hands on the table, leaning forward, and then he raised his head, his face flushed angry red. “What the HELL were you thinking, keeping this from me, huh? What were you thinking? Do you know the FUCKING damage this is gonna do? EVRYTHING we ever tried to accomplish? This is insanity, I-”   
“Tony!” Mary-Jo said pointedly. “Stop* yelling*.”   
“Stop yelling? Stop yelling? You’re gonna defend him?! I haven’t even started yelling at him, Mary-Jo! I don’t even know how to begin!” He glared at Roger, who was still standing with his back against the wall and his hands crossed, as defensive as if he was preparing for a body blow.     
“Why are you even telling me this now? And what the *hell* does it has to do with playing exhibitions in Texas with Rodd...”   
Then his eyes widened even more, and Roger glanced at Mary-Jo, because Tony’s face changed colors from red to vivid crimson, even his ears were red.   
Then Andy stepped out of the bedroom, and Tony turned, as did Mary-Jo, who gasped. Andy leaned against the bedroom wall, and looked at them, his face serious and slightly anxious. Mary-Jo’s gaped in shock and let out a choked incredulous sound. “No freakin’ way.”   
Tony stared at him, then looked at Roger, who was looking at Andy with hope mingled with desperation, with just a note of loving exasperation. “Oh you’re having me on.” he groaned.   
Andy smiled a bit. “Yeah. That would be a *no*. Sorry, Tony.”   
“You’re...you’re....” Tony moved his finger between them.   
“We are.”   
“Wh-Since when?”   
Andy and Roger exchanged looks, and at Andy’s gesture, Roger replied. “Four years,” he said, softly. “Give or take.”   
Tony’s eyes widened, then his entire body sagged. He looked at them, then at his wife. “Four YEARS?” He said, slowly. “You’ve been lovers for four years?” He  swallowed. “Excuse me, for a second.”   
“Tony.” Roger said, his voice shaky.   
“No - Roger. Just - No. No.  I - I need a few moments by myself, if you don’t mind. I’m going to take a walk outside.” He turned to the door, then looked back at Roger and shook his head. “I’m just-” He shook his head again, and the door slammed behind him. Roger looked at Mary-Jo, his voice shook. “Maybe you should go after him.”   
“Oh. He’ll calm down. You gave him a hell of a shock, is all.” She said slowly, dazed, then walked up to Roger who was looking at her guardedly, then she gestured with her head. “Come here.”   
Roger allowed himself to be hugged by her, then pulled away, wiping his face. “Don’t” He said in a choked voice. “You’re - you’re going to make me cry.”   
“I don’t understand this, for the life of me. I  don’t.” She said softly. “Why did you not say anything, ever?”   
“Do you have to ask?” He said. “First I was young and confused, then I was Roger Federer. Straight guy, tennis king. There are many reasons why, I’m not sure I can explain to you in a way that you would understand. Most times I can barely explain it to myself.”   
“Why didn’t you ever tell Tony? Roger, he’s not..”   
Roger stopped her. “You were a pro player, you know what’s it’s like. Would IMG even take me on at the time? And it was more and more difficult to tell the truth as time passed. The lie was too great.“ He looked away. “Please, don’t ask me why I didn’t say anything. A lot of things that used to make sense don’t make sense now. I should have maybe done it a couple of years ago, but I didn’t. Why? Because I just didn’t. I just - I just didn’t. It was easier this way.”   
Andy crossed over to them and wrapped an arm around Mary-Jo’s shoulder. “Want some coffee? Let’s  sit down.”   
Mary Jo  rolled her eyes. “You’re telling me that you’re both gay and you’re offering me coffee?! Get real.”   
Andy smirked. “Fair point. Vodka?”   
“Beer would be fine, thanks. ”

When they were seated, Mary Jo’s eyes lit up. “From the start?”  
Roger shrugged. “I don’t even know where to begin”   
“How did you two get together?”   
Roger glanced at Andy, and smiled a bit. “Maybe you want to tell that part?” Because it was more Andy’s story than his. Because if it hadn’t been for Andy’s determination, they would have been two ships passing each other in the night, and his life would have been an empty shell of what it is now.   
Andy groaned. “He wants me to tell this, because he’s too nice to tell you that I stalked him for months.”   
Mary Jo’s lips curved up in a smile. “Stalked?”   
“You didn’t stalk.” Roger said, leaning back slightly, relaxing a fraction. “There was nothing stalkerish about it. You just made your intentions very clear.”   
“You just didn’t notice all the stalking beforehand. When I still thought you were straight.”   
Mary-Jo smiled, then frowned. “Why now? I mean - why come out now?   
Roger pressed his lips together. “Mirka is seeing Severin.”   
Mary-Jo’s eyes opened wide. “Oh, God.”  She gave Roger a pointed look. “And - This isn’t something you were aware of?”   
“Not so much, no.”   
Mary Jo’s eyes narrowed. “So, Seve knows about you for how many years now, that lying sneak?”   
Roger blanched and reddened. “It’s not years, only recently.”   
Mary’s face wore an expression of incredulity. “What?! How could you hide that sort of thing from him?!“ She closed her eyes before Roger had a chance to reply. “Never mind. Who did know, other than Mirka. She couldn’t have been the only one.”   
Roger sighed. “Pierre. And Peter - “ He paused. “Carter, not Lungren.”   
He made a conscious attempt to ignore the sympathy in her eyes at that. “Roche.He’s also the only one who knows about Andy. He didn’t take it well at the time.  Tim Henman, when he found a copy of playgirl in my locker when I was 21. Marat Safin may have a clue but we’ve never actually discussed this .”   
Andy cocked a brow.  “Safin? I didn’t know this.”   
Roger flushed. “I kinda - came on to him when we were 17 and we got drunk together one day after we both lost a match, ah- never mind. I’m not sure he remember it, he was really drunk and he never said anything afterwards.”   
Andy smirked. “You came on to him? Really? What did he do?”   
Roger’s face darkened a the memory. “Um, we fooled around a bit and then he threw up. As I said, we were really wasted. I don’t think he knew what he was doing.”   
Andy snorted, and Roger rolled his eyes. “I’m glad you’re amused by this. I ended up with puke on my shirt.” Andy’s laughed harder. “That’s actually a good story. Other than the part about him touching you. I could live without mental image in my mind.”   
“Roger.” Mary-jo asked. “What about your parents?”   
Roger shook his head, the smile melting away from his face. Andy wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, squeezing. Mary-Jo sighed.  “Roger. How could they not know?”   
“I don’t think they would react well.” Roger said quietly.   
Mary-Jo looked at Andy. “What about you, who knows?”   
“My close family knows about me.” He said. “They don’t know about Roger, though. But that’s pretty much it. No coaches, not anyone on tour.”   
Mary-Jo heaved a big sigh. “I don’t know what to say about all of that, I’m stunned.”   
Roger glanced up at her. “Are you disappointed?”   
Mary-Jo bit her lip. “About the lying, well - yes. And I’m - pretty shocked that you’ve had so little faith in  lot of people who love you, who thought they were close to you, who dedicated a lot of their time and energy  in your success.”   
Roger lowered his head. “I know.” He said, his voice small. “I- didn’t handle it well.”   
Over his head, Andy shook his head at Mary-Jo, urging her to lay off the guilt.

At that moment, the door opened and Tony walked in, looking haggard. He headed toward the fridge and helped himself to a beer, then took a seat next to his wife and gave Roger and Andy a long look. Andy’s hand was still resting at the back of Roger’s neck, rubbing slowly, and he did not remove it, or stopped the gentle caress, or avoided Tony’s eyes.  Roger was also watching Tony, his eyes wary.  
“Jesus Effing Christ.” Tony sighed as he sat down, and chugged down a good quantity of his beer. “So boys,” He leaned forward, hands on his knees. “What’s the deal here?”   
“What do you mean?” Roger asked, guarded.   
Tony fixed him with a hard stare. “Roger.” He sighed. “You’re my friend, above everything else, you’re a friend.  But you lied to me for years, you didn’t call me out here just to come clean after this much time, you want something, so out with it, why am I here?”   
Roger hesitated. “This is what you want to talk about right now? You don’t want to ask me anything?”   
Tony’s lips were set. “Ask you anything? I have a lot to ask you, Roger. A  hell of a lot.  Mainly about the countless lies you’ve told me over the years. So, I’m pretty angry right now and I don’t want to say something I don’t mean. Let's just talk business right now. ”   
Roger’s glanced at Andy and sighed. “The idea is to come out, publically. Not just to you guys. To everyone.”   
Tony’s eyes narrowed. “Whose idea? That’s not your idea, of that I’m sure. If this was a plan, you wouldn’t have ordered me here in the off-season.   
Roger sighed. “I’m - it’s complicated. I want to - “ He glanced at Andy, who watched him silently. “I do - I’m just...”   
Tony glanced at Andy, then back at Roger. “Are you pressured into doing this?”   
Andy ‘s expression darkened and Roger spoke quickly. “Well. Yes. But not by Andy. Mirka and Seve’s”   
Tony’s eyes narrowed. “Mirka? Why now, after all these years?”   
“She’s seeing Sev. I just found out. They want to go public with their - relationship.”   
Tony rubbed at his temples, exhibiting all the signs of a man with a pounding headache.”And she figured out she’ll be the most hated WAG  in the  world if it looks like she left you for your coach. Yeah, I  can’t fault her logic there.”  He quirked a brow. “Do you oppose their relationship?”                                                                                                                                   
Roger sighed again. “No. I guess not.” He groaned. “How can I? They both deserve every bit of happiness, I just - ” His lips pursed. “Can I not get into this? I’ve been over this forever in the past few days. It’s not rational, the fact that I hate it. And I’m trying to get over this, not quite successfully.”   
Andy stilled his face into an impassive mask as Roger continued.“As It’s been pointed out to me by several people in the last few days - i I have no right to be jealous. I don’t even know if I am. ”   
Tony rubbed his face. “Forgive me, Roger. I just have a hard time believing this is all real.” He looked between the two of them, then his eyes focused on Andy. “Until an hour ago, I wouldn’t have even put you in the list of people Roger calls close friends. You don’t train together, you don’t ever spend time with each other that I’ve seen, in the locker-room you exchange pleasantries and nothing more. God knows your career would be on another level if Roger never existed, and if you tell me you’ve never thought about it I’d brand you a liar. How do you get from there to a real relationship - I don’t know.  Are you two fucking kidding me with this? Are you sure you’re not confusing fooling around to something real?  Is this thing between you important enough for you two to risk everything? I just have to question what it is you two are thinking. I don’t get it.”   
Andy bristled. “You really don’t get it.  We kept it a secret, doesn’t mean it’s not fucking real. However, the ‘fooling around’ as you call it, IS top notch, in case you were curious.”   
Tony blanched and Roger intervened, his voice soft. “He’s right. You just - you just don’t know, and that’s my fault, because I didn’t tell you, and I kept this from all of you. But it’s not - it’s not about screwing around in hotel rooms. I wouldn’t risk my career for that. Neither would Andy.”   
Tony frowned. “A real relationship. That’s just - I don’t even know what that means to you anymore. I thought I did, but I don’t.” His eyes narrowed at Roger’s direction, more confused than angry. “You love each other?”   
“Yes.” Roger’s voice only hitched a bit at that.   
Tony heaved a sigh and glanced at his wife, who cobcked her eyebrow toward him, and said seriously. “I think they mean it, sweetheart. You need to hear what they’re saying.”   
Tony examined them further and Andy’s lips quirked. “You still can’t believe it, do you?”   
“Well, No. Not so much. No.” He looked at Roger. “Until an hour ago I thought you were in a very long satisfying hetrosexual relationship, now I find out  you are in a rather long satisfying homosexual relationship with someone I barely knew you had more than a general regard for. Forgive me if that’s a bit hard to digest, for crying out loud. I thought I know you, I thought I knew Mirka. We were friends, the four of us, we spent time together. I never as much as suspected, and no - you ask me if I truly believe what you’re telling me? The answer is no. I don’t. But -  I apparently have to - because this is clearly not a prank.”   
Andy nudged Roger. “Wanna show him?”   
Roger looked at him blankly, upset and distracted. “Show him what?”   
Andy tilted his head, and cocked his finger in a come hither gesture, his eyes wandering to Roger’s lips.   
Roger blinked. “Andy.” He said, uncomfortable. “Come on. I don’t want to embarrass anyone.”   
Andy bristled. “Why the fuck are we doing this for, if you can’t even kiss me in front of someone who just told you he’s your friend? A man who is turning fifty and probably saw a lot of people making out in his life? Do you think there may be a time where you’d feel comfortable kissing me in front of someone else? What’s the point of going through this mess if we’re going to keep hiding? I thought you’ve made a decision but honestly, Roger - it doesn’t feel like it’s true at all.”

Roger, stricken, looked at Andy, then at Tony who sat there, frozen, and Mary-Jo who looked enthralled, and then grabbed Andy’s wrist, pulled him closer, and kissed him. Hard. Hard enough to bruise. Hard enough to make a point.   
Andy made a surprised sound, a gasp of a sort, and curled his hand at the back of Roger’s neck. Pulling him in, all relief and victory and fuckyeah. And he kept on kissing him even when Tony cleared his throat, and Andy was the one pulling back, because Roger didn’t stop the kiss. He kept on kissing him, and when Andy opened his eyes, Roger’s eyes were right there, on him.   
There was a lump in his throat and he bowed his head slightly, because it felt like his heart would open up and swallow Roger whole.

While Andy was recovering. Roger’s voice was controlled as he looked at Tony. “Convinced?”  
Tony let out a small sound of surprise, a breathy exhale of a sort. “Yeah.” He was staring at Roger and Andy as if he’s never seen them before. “I think I understand even less now. Seeing that. How did you manage to fool us all for so long - I’d never know. You deserve an Oscar. Yes, Dammit. I believe you now.“   
He shook his head. “I feel like an idiot. Though - ” He looked at Andy. “And I’m not fifty just yet.”   
Roger smiled a little. “We’ve been - we’ve been very careful. Sometimes we haven’t seen each other for months. We did not let our relationship interfere in our careers. We worked very hard to fool everyone.”   
“So I’ve noticed” Tony said, his eyes narrowing. “So, how did the Wimbledon Final work out for you?”   
Roger swallowed hard and Andy said shortly. “Hasn’t been easy.”   
“I can imagine.” Tony said. He looked at Roger, comprehension in his eyes. “You were in such strange mood after that final. I never understood why. I’ve never seen you like that after a Slam win. You were prickly and agitated. And miserable, for weeks.”   
“Tony.” Roger said, softly, because Andy stiffened next to him, and that would ever be a sore spot for them.  Wimbledon. How Andy disappeared, how he stayed away and didn’t take phone calls. “It was what it was. Drop it, okay?”   
“No, that’s okay, Rog.” Andy sighed. “It was a fair question. I was being a sore loser, which I am sure is just shocking to you,” He gave Tony a chance to smirk, then continued.  “I made his life miserable for weeks. I’d like to think I won’t react like that again. I hope I won’t.  But it was a challenge in our relationship that I hope we have overcome.   
Tony shrugged. “How you do it - I don’t know. But - it’s your business, not mine.” He paused then looked at Roger. “Who knows about you?”   
Roger sighed. “Few on tour. Mary-Jo can fill you in. My parents don’t know.”   
Tony’s expression was that of sympathy. “You have to tell them first.”   
“That’s the plan. I’m scared that - “ He shrugged suddenly. “I don’t know, you’re taking it much better than I thought, maybe they’ll surprise me, too.”   
Tony smiled wryly. “How did you think I was going to react?”   
Roger fidgeted on his seat. “I don’t know. Not like that. Worse.”   
Tony bit his lip. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m furious, FURIOUS, that you lied to me, that was quite an elaborate deception, it wasn’t a lie of omission. Look, I won’t lie to you. If you came out years ago, it might have had a negative effect on your career and earnings, at least where sponsors are concerned - but I would have still been your agent. I’d still be your friend. And I’d still support you. And I’m frankly amazed and furious that you thought otherwise.”   
Roger sighed deeply. His voice only slightly hitched. “It all sounds so easy when you say it. But I have had some bad reactions over the years.”   
Tony looked at him, puzzled. “What? Like who? Who else knows?”   
“Roche. I told him. Basically because he was the one person there in a specific moment, and everything fizzled from there on.”   
There was a light of understanding in Tony’s eyes and he shook his head. “Lets just say that a lot makes sense now.” He leaned back in his chair, nursing on his beer, and studied Roger for a long moment. “What do you need me to do?”   
“Help me come out? Tell sponsors, I don’t know. You tell me.”   
Tony shook his head. “No.”   
Roger blinked. “What do you mean, no? You think it’s a bad idea?”   
Tony sighed. “No, that’s not it. I mean - you obviously made up your mind, I will not convince you otherwise, I don’t want to, either. I think it’s a good decision. What I’m saying is - I don’t need to get involved right now.”   
Roger rubbed his face. “Tony, I’ve had a rough couple of days, stop talking in riddles.”   
Tony leaned forward. eyes intent on Roger.  “We will not give anyone any notice. You will just come out. In a press conference. Whoever dumps you afterwards would look like a raging homophobic idiot. Companies would not want to risk it, this day and age.” He looked at Andy, then paused. “Look, I’m not *your* agent, but a double press conference seems like the only way to go, in my eyes. You don’t breath a word to anyone before. Your families, that’s it. No one else. You need to control the story. You need to make people understand.” He looked at Roger. “Especially you, Rog. And Mirka has to be there, because only God knows what people would be thinking.”   
Roger lowered his head. “They will think that she didn’t know.”   
“Yes, that’s not something you want people to think. I cannot stress this enough. That would truly hurt you. You need to do anything to avoid that perception, especially as it is untrue.”   
Andy looked at Tony skeptically. “Tell no one on tour and then come out in a big announcement? The three of us? Really? That’s your expert opinion? It’s too - tabloidy.” He sighed. “I want us to come out, but I don’t know if that is the way.”   
Tony shrugged “That’s how I see it.You can’t tell anyone unless you’re 200% sure it won’t be leaked. It would be a PR nightmare for the both of you. Gossips and whispering until you finally take the plunge. You need to control the story. You need to let the press ask whatever they want. You can’t let people gossip without any facts. They would assume you two had been carrying on behind Mirka’s back, and no amount of persuasion would convince them otherwise. People do not get complicated dynamics. Concepts like lying and cheating are easier for them to believe in.”   
Roger looked toward Andy, who moved restlessly in his seat. “I don’t know. I don’t know. I mean, there are some people I’d like to tell myself, in person, beyond my family.”   
Tony’s brow furrowed in thought. “Do you trust them not to leak the story?”   
Andy shook his head quietly. “Honestly? No.”   
“Anyone I know?”   
“Mardy. Others, too, The Bryans. but Mardy, mostly. I just - I think like I have to tell him, to salvage our friendship.”   
“Andy.” Roger said softly. “He won’t be able to keep it to himself. I know that much about him.”   
Andy looked away from them, his expression blank. Then he rubbed his face. “I need to think this through.”   
Tony got up, and paced around the room for a while as the others were watching him. Mary-Jo smiled. “What are you doing, sweetheart?”   
“I’m thinking.” He turned around to them. “I’m not sure you’re going to like my next proposal, either.”   
“Shoot.” Roger said, his eyes intense.   
“You both are playing Kooyang, right? In two weeks time?”   
Andy gave a brief nod. “Like every year. Why is this relevant?”   
“I think you should come out then.” Tony smiled slightly,

\---------

Roger stood in the doorway, watching a shirtless, towel-clad Andy brushing his teeth. Andy caught his eyes in the mirror and turned around, wiping his mouth. “Tony and Mary Jo turned in?”  
“Probably. They’re jet-legged. And I think Tony finally had his fill of us.”   
Andy walked toward him, tossing the towel back toward the sink. It landed on the floor. Roger quirked an eyebrow.   
Andy rolled his eyes as he brushed past him back into the bedroom and flopped on the bed, face down, with a sigh. Roger watched him for a moment, then sat next to him on the bed. Andy was quiet. After a while, Roger lowered his face to the naked, warm expanse of Andy’s back, between his shoulder blades. “Are you angry with me?” He whispered, his breath a puff against Andy’s back.   
Andy did a small, shrugging motion. “I’m tired, Rog.”   
Roger sat back up. “Okay.” He sat there helplessly for a moment. “I thought this is what you wanted.”   
Andy turned to his back sharply. “Coming out in Kooyang?! Didn’t we spend the last couple of days trying to convince Mirka and Severin to give us a couple more months?! Didn’t you insist you did not want to deal with that before the Australian Open? Didn’t the idea freak you out? Didn’t you agonize over this? Tony Godsick gives a speech about potential PR problems and now everything is fine? I don’t fucking get it, Roger, I don’t.”   
Roger got up to grab the laptop from the desk and opened it on the bed, in angle Andy could look. He googled his name along with Andy’s and clicked on news. Articles came pouring in. Roger’s accident and the report how Andy brought Roger in, speculation as to why Andy was in Switzerland and one shot of him, sitting outside Roger’s hospital room, with his face in his hands. Then another shot of him, his eyes red-rimmed. He never realized the photos were taken. This was not a photo of a man worried about a rival. “The photos only came out today.” Roger said softly.   
Andy looked up at Roger, who looked at him with a  grave face. “Tony’s right. We can’t lie, not after this.”   
He paused. “My parents called. Three times already. I told them our story, about the practice and the exhibition. But  - they could hear something was not right.” He looked down. “I told Tony the truth. And the sky haven’t fallen, and he’s been super supportive.  What does that say about my judgement?” He let out a shuddering breath. “So, It’s your call. I don’t trust myself anymore.”   
Andy looked at the photos, then at Roger. He closed the laptop and pushed it away,  then pulled Roger on the bed with him. On top of him.  There was no needs for words anymore. “Yeah. Okay.”   
Roger rested his head against Andy’s chest and closed his eyes. “Yeah.” He sighed. “Okay.”   
They were both lying there for a while, with their eyes closed, dozing a bit, but not really asleep.   
“You asleep?” Andy eventually asked, the second time Roger shifted.   
Roger sighed. “No. Not really. I can’t clear my mind. Am I waking you?”   
“No.” Andy’s hands started outlining Roger’s spine. Up and Down. “Can’t sleep either. Thinking about too much things to calm down.”   
Roger shivered, and shuffled a little bit, his soft cock unfurling against Andy’s under the flimsy cloth of his shorts. His breaths quickening a bit.   
Andy’s hands stilled. “Really? I barely did anything.”   
“You’re touching me.” After a pause. “Don’t stop.”   
Andy continued running his fingers up and down Roger’s back, slowly teasing them both, before settling his hands on Roger’s ass,  not applying pressure. Just resting them there. Roger was panting against his neck by the time he did and rolled his hips slightly.

Andy started a low rub and knead, and eventually a more insistent, circular motion, groaning softly at the sensation of soft skin against his hands and the pressure on his cock. Roger pushed back, going for a slight rocking motion and gasped. He yanked his shorts half way to his knees, not bothering to remove them entirely and settled back with a groan, burying his face in Andy’s neck, bracing himself on both sides of his body. “More.”   
It was clear he was going to let Andy dictate the pace.   
Andy tightened his hands around Roger as they humped against one another, pace growing steadily.   
“Fucking Christ.” Andy groaned as he arched his back, trying to increase the friction. “How come you feel so fucking good like that.”   
“Ah. Ah.” Roger struggled for leverage, kicking against the mattress, as Andy grabbed him by the thighs and rocked against him hard, fingers digging in, until the angle was sweet and right and the pressure delicious. “Fuck. Rog. Fuck.”   
Roger let out a whimper against Andy’s neck, mouth half open and slack, and moved his hips hard down on Andy’s upthrust. As the sharp lick of fire curling at his balls finally peaked, he let out a low groan.   
The  additional slick around and against his cock was enough to send Andy over the edge as well, he  gasped and pressed Roger tighter against him, groaning hard, and spilled, trying to - belatedly - muffle the sound a bit. Roger had collapsed against him, shaking, shivers still wrecking his spine, the muscles of his thighs spasming from aftershocks.  “Oh. My God.”   
Andy made a weak attempt to push him off. “Move, we’ll get glued.”   
“Don’t care.” Roger groaned and settled. “Now I’m sleepy.” He nuzzled against Andy’s shoulder, before tightening his grip on him. Andy was about to make a protest about sticky public hair, but as Roger’s breathing slowed, he leaned back with a sigh and allowed himself to enjoy the afterglow and the haze that came with it and prevented any other thoughts from taking over.

  
  
  



End file.
